MEMOIRS  OF  RACHEL. 


BT 


MADAME    DE    B- 


J  \        jt      I 


I  • 


I         '    > 


NEW    YORK: 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN      SQUARE. 

1858. 


PREFACE. 


In  order  to  form  a  correct  judgment  on  celebrated 
persons,  "we  should  have  a  previous  knowledge  of  the 
sphere  in  which  they  moved,  of  the  circumstances  in 
which  they  were  placed,  of  the  epoch  at  which  their 
star  arose. 

Among  those  whose  names  the  many-tongued  dame 
has  borne  to  the  remotest  corners  of  the  civilized  world, 
none  have  exemplified  more  forcibly  than  Rachel  the 
truth  of  the  Spanish  adage  which  accords  the  palm  not 
to  the  most  deserving,  but  to  him  who  arrives  in  time. 
Be  this  not  understood,  however,  as  a  disparagement  of 
the,  merit  of  the  justly  celebrated  daughter  of  Israel. 
But,  without  in  the  least  intending  to  detract  from  talent 
so  universally  acknowledged,  it  must  be  allowed  that  in 
her  case  Fortune  came  most  opportunely  to  the  aid  of 
Genius,  and  that  every  event,  from  the  commencement 
to  the  close  of  her  career,  justified  to  the  utmost  her 
surname  of  Felix. 

Genius,  even  when  seconded  by  persevering  will,  is 
not  sufficient  to  conquer  the  heights  Ambition  would 
scale ;  it  needs  the  concurrence  of  auspicious  circum- 
stances; and  Chance,  though  aptly  called  the  God  of  fools, 
has  drawn  from  stagnant  obscurity  Napoleons,  Shak- 
speares,  and  Newtons,  who  else  had  ignobly  lived  and 
ingloriously  died. 

The  moment  when  Rachel  came  forward  was  that  of 
a  crisis.  The  public  was  weary  of  the  clamors  of  the 
partisans  of  the  old  school  and  of  those  of  the  new.  The 
question  which  had  kindled  so  fierce  a  war  between  the 

A 


11  PKEFACE. 

Classicists  and  tlie  Komaiiticists  was  about  to  be  decided 
in  favor  of  the  latter.  Tragedy  was  at  its  last  gasp ;  the 
theatre,  so  long  the  admired  and  envied  model  of  all 
Europe,  was  tottering  to  its  foundations  under  the  load 
of  debt  which  the  indifference  and  neglect  of  a  fickle 
public  had  allowed  to  accumulate  upon  it.  The  few 
actors  of  any  talent  who  still  hngered  about  the  forsaken 
temple  vainly  sought  to  resist  the  torrent  that  bore  them 
into  the  ranks  of  the  exultant  Eomanticists ;  compelled 
to  worship  the  false  gods,  they  reluctantly  apostatized 
from  the  creed  of  which  they  had  once  been  the  worthy 
champions.  Nor  should  the  impartial  chronicler  too 
hastily  condemn  these  recreants;  the  performance  of 
tragedies  had  become  impossible  from  the  lack  of  com- 
petent tragic  actresses;  the  debutantes  half  converted  to 
the  new  dogmas  were  no  longer  animated  by  the  sacred 
fire ;  no  extent  of  good- will  could  compensate  the  want 
of  genius,  of  talent,  of  spirit ;  each  new  candidate  for  the 
scenic  palm  was  the  exact  counterpart  of  her  predecessor, 
reproducing  before  a  wearied  and  disgusted  public  the 
same  faulty  style,  the  same  ranting,  whining,  monoto- 
nous declamation ;  name  succeeded  name,  and,  passing- 
unnoticed  before  a  Parisian  audience,  sank,  one  after  the 
other,  into  the  same  Lethean  obscurity,  the  provinces 
entombing  each  at  the  close  of  her  short  and  epitaphless 
career. 

Alas !  the  abomination  of  desolation  had  fallen  on  the 
sanctuary.  Imperious,  despotic  Romanticism  had  pro- 
nounced its  quos  ego,  and  the  master-pieces  of  the  French 
stage  awaited  in  dust  and  forgetfulness  an  improbable 
resurrection.  The  announcement  of  "  Cinna,"  "  Andro- 
maque,"  and  "Merope"  sufficed  to  transform  the  once- 
crowded  house  into  a  desert,  and  exhausted  instead  of 
replenishmg  the  treasury. 

With  Talma,  with  Mademoiselle  Duchesnois,  true 
French  tragedy  had  ended.  We  do  not  speak  of  Mad- 
emoiselle Georges,  for  she  had  forsaken  her  ethereal 


PREFACE.  Ill 


mistress  for  one  of  the  earth  earthy :  Marion  Delorme 
could  not  be  expected  to  become  the  chaste  and  heroic 
Pauline,  nor  could  La  Tishe  exchange  the  fanciful  garb 
of  the  Venetian  courtesan  to  assume  with  the  Koman 
robes  the  Eoman  feelings  of  a  Junia. 

The  Drama  was  triumphant;  the  Tragic  Muse,  still 
beautiful  in  her  solitude  and  sadness,  her  rent  and  worn 
mantle  ill  concealing  her  poverty,  her  crown  shivered, 
her  proud  throne  mocked  and  defaced,  her  tears  unseen, 
her  sighs  unheeded,  in  forsaken,  still  imperial  majesty, 
the  Great  Eelic  of  a  Great  Past,  was  preparing  to  flee 
forever  from  the  ingrate  land  that  now  worshiped  a 
usurper,  when  the  hand  of  a  child  arrested  her  flight, 
and,  for  a  brief  space,  restored  her  empire. 

Three  fourths  of  the  following  pages  were  written 
during  the  life  of  the  celebrated  woman  whose  career 
constitutes  their  subject.  As  the  work  drew  to  a  close, 
the  tomb  opened  to  receive  her  who  for  eighteen  years 
had  been  the  pride  of  the  French  stage.  But  the  event 
that  has  cast  so  deep  a  gloom  over  the  prospects  of  clas- 
sic art,  depriving  it  of  its  sole  support,  can  make  no  dif- 
ference in  a  work  in  which  neither  posthumous  flattery 
nor  detraction  find  a  place.  Even  the  truth  due  to  the 
dead  should  be  spoken  within  certain  limits.  When 
the  faults  and  errors  of  one  who  attained  so  high  a  rank 
as  an  artiste  are  trumpeted  by  the  tongue  of  mahce,  or 
hinted  at  by  the  conscientious  biographer,  the  reader 
must  bear  in  mind  the  sphere  in  which  she  was  born 
and  passed  her  early  youth,  the  intoxicating  influence 
of  unexpected  fame  and  opulence,  the  bewildering  effect 
of  the  sudden  transition  from  the  societ}^  of  the  low,  the 
ignorant,  and  vulgar,  to  that  of  the  most  high-bred,  ed- 
ucated, and  aristocratic  of  the  land,  the  satiety  and  wea- 
riness that  the  prompt  fulfillment  of  every  wash  soon 
brought  with  it,  the  nervously  irritable  and  constitution- 
ally frail  organization  of  the  being  who  was  constantly 
called  upon  to  personify  the  most  violent  and  wearing 


IV  PREFACE. 

passions ;  let  us  not  then  wonder  that  her  aspirations  to- 
ward the  good  and  the  beautiful  were  often  followed  by- 
no  results,  that  the  creature  so  richly  endowed  by  prod- 
igal Nature,  so  powerfully  sustained  by  Fortune,  should 
not  have  been  uniformly  great,  and  that  blemishes  should 
have  darkened  her  finest  traits. 

Yet,  with  all  her  imperfections,  it  will  be  long  ere  the 
world  shall  see  another  Rachel,  the  stage  another  trage- 
dienne uniting  her  genius,  her  intuitive  conception  of  the 
sublime  and  the  beautiful,  her  extraordinary  power  of 
expressing  what  she  so  perfectly  conceived,  her  grand 
pagan  qualities,  her  Greek,  statue-like  figure,  her  majes- 
ty of  brow  and  attitude,  her  quiet  dignity  of  manner. 
The  lovers  of  art  have  sustained  an  irreparable  loss,  and 
mournfully  exclaim, 

"  There's  a  great  spirit  gone  !" 

We  have  followed  Eachel  more  especially  in  her  pro- 
fessional career,  without,  however,  omitting  the  more 
arduous  task  of  speaking  of  her  as  the  woman  in  her  so- 
cial sphere :  a  delicate  subject  at  all  times,  since  it  neces- 
sitates the  invasion  of  the  sanctuary  of  private  life,  re- 
vealing its  mysteries  to  a  prying  public,  but  more  espe- 
cially so  in  the  present  case. 

"We  have  endeavored  to  fulfill  this  task  so  far  as  it 
was  consistent  with  the  duty  of  biography  to  record  the 
words  and  actions  of  its  subject.  But  there  are  grounds 
it  is  not  our  province  to  touch  upon — grounds  that  are 
beyond  the  hmits  of  even  the  morbid  curiosity  that  ea- 
gerly seeks  in  every  great  work  that  issues  from  the  Di- 
vine Hand  the  contaminating  touch  of  the  spirit  of  evil 
— grounds  where  the  truth  is  too  obscure  to  be  distin- 
guished from  fiction,  and  where,  even  if  known,  it  would 
afford  no  better  clew  to  character,  would  convey  no  les- 
son, prevent  no  fall. 

If,  then,  those  who  delight  in  the  indiscriminate  reve- 
lations of  the  foibles  of  poor  human  nature  take  up  this 
book  in  the  hope  of  meeting  with  a  detailed  account  of 


PREFACE.  \ 

the  liaisons  attributed  to  the  great  tragedienne^  we  warn 
them  that  nothing  so  piquant  seasons  its  matter-of-fact 
pages.  "Whatever  could  convey  an  idea  of  her  character, 
temper,  and  inchnations,  all  that  had  any  connection 
with  her  dramatic  talent,  we  were  bound  to  record ;  far- 
ther, we  had  nothing  to  add  from  the  garrulous  chronique 
scandaleuse  of  the  day. 

K  tragedy  did  not  die  when  disease  laid  so  fatal  a 
grasp  on  her  last  interpreter,  at  least  she  sank  into  so 
lethargic  a  sleep  that  the  strenuous  efforts  made  to  arouse 
her  have  only  proved  their  own  futihty  and  justified 
the  triumphant  pens  of  her  adversaries.  She  who  could 
revive  the  life,  the  soul,  is  herself  gone  forever.  Well 
may  we  deplore  the  loss  of  the  priestess  who  alone  could 
rekindle  the  extinct  flame,  and  exclaim, 

"  Si  Pergama  dextra 
Defend!  possent,  etiam  hac  defensa  fiussent." 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Parentage. — Abraham  Felix  and  Esther  Ilaya. — Characteristics  of  the 
Father  reflected  in  the  Daughter. — Nomade  Life. — Birth-place, 
early  Childhood,  and  Pursuits Page  13 

CHAPTER  II. 

1830-1837. 
Paris. — A  lucky  Meeting. — Mr.  Choron. — The  Cours  St.  Aulaire. — 
Rachel  at  Thirteen. — Narrative  of  Salema. — An  old  Umbrella  for 
Racine. —  "Le  Legataire  Universel."  —  Precocious  Actress. — The 
Conservatoire. — Conflicting  Opinions. — A  Judge  at  Fault. — Unfa- 
vorable Prognostics.  —  "Sell  Bouquets,  girl,  sell  Bouquets." — An 
important  Role. — A  great  Step  in  Life 17 

CHAPTER  III. 
1837. 
The  Gymnase. — La  Vendeenne. — The  first  Criticism. — Jides  Janin. 
— Bouffe. — An  odd  little  Thing. — Jewish  Esprit  de  Corps. — Rachel 
and  Sanson 25 

CHAPTER  IV. 

1838  and  1839. 
The  Theatre  Frangais. — Three  Months  of  negative  Success. — "Ca- 
niille." — "Hermione." — "Emilie." — An  unknown  Admirer. — Doc- 
tor Veron. — Appearance  of  Rachel  at  that  Time. — The  Prince  of  Crit- 
ics.— A  less  enthusiastic  Admirer. — Agamemnon  and  Clytemnestra, 
Titus,  and  Berenice,  in  brocade,  flowing  wigs,  and  small  swords  ...  32 

CHAPTER  V. 

1838-1839. 
Enthusiasm  of  the  Public. — Louis  Philip])e  and  Rachel. — Royal  Munifi- 
cence in  past  and  present  Times. — An  Increase  of  Salary. — System 
of  Starring  and  its  ill  Effects. — Monime. — Behind  the  Curtains ;  La 
Rue  Traversiere. — A  Step  upward  in  private  Life. — Peace  broken 
between  the  Socictaires  and  the  Pet  of  the  Public. — Bajazet ;  a  crit- 
ical Moment. — Reminiscences  of  Mademoiselle  Mars. — Artistic  Mag- 
nanimity and  Vanity 37 


VIU  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VI.  ^ 
1839. 
A  Step  higher  in  private  Life. — The  maimed  Student  and  a  Scene  in 
"  Les  Horaces."  —  The  Friendship  of  the  Great. — L'Abbaye  aux 
Bois. — Madame  Recamier. — The  Jewish  Actress  and  a  Dignitary 
of  the  Church. — A  Stranger  to  Venus.  —  Rachel  in  Comedy. — 
"Esther" Page  49 

CHAPTER  VII. 

1840. 
Artistic  Career. — First  Period  one  of  constant  Struggle  and  arduous 
Toil. — Eminent  Critics  of  the  Day. — Granier  de  Cassagnac. — Jules 
Janin. — Theophile  Gauthier. — Edouard  Thierry. — The  Public  be- 
comes exacting. — Incident  at  a  Soiree. — Rachel  at  Eighteen. — Tax- 
ed with  want  of  real  Feeling. — Tact. — Manners. — Delicate  Health. 
—Solicitude  of  the  Public 57 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

1840. 
Alarming  Incident.  —  Three  Plays  revived  this  Year:  "Nicomede," 
"Polyeucte,"  and  "Marie  Stuart." — Benefit  of  Mademoiselle  The- 
nard  at  Versailles. — Why  Racine  is  generally  preferred  to  Corneille. 
— Mademoiselle  Rachel  as  Pauline. — Commences  her  Tour  through 
the  Provinces.  —  Debut  at  Rouen.  —  Letter  to  the  Manager.  —  The 
Medallion  of  "my  second  Father." — Success  at  Lyons,  &c.,  &c. — 
Reappearance  at  the  Theatre  Fran9ais. — Indifference  of  the  Public 
for  the  classical  Drama. — Artistic  Selfishness 67 

CHAPTER  IX. 
1841. 
Engagement  for  one  Year  signed  with  the  Theatre  rran9ais. — Father 
■and  Teacher. — Debuts  in  England. — Victoria  to  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel.— Andromaque  mistaken  for  Hermione. — Rachel  at  Windsor. — 
Return  to  Paris. — Increasing  Splendors. — Rachel  a  thorough  Cos- 
mopolitan.— A  Rival ! — Contest  for  the  scenic  Sceptre  :  "  Marie  Stu- 
art."— Rachel  and  Elizabeth. — Maxime. — Phedre  keeping  furnished 
Lodgings  and  a  Table  d'hote 78 

CHAPTER  X. 

1842. 
The  "Cid."— The  Chimene  of  the  French  Stage;  the  Ximena  of  an- 
cient Spain  and  the  Creation  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel. — "  Ariane." 
— La  Champmesle. — Mademoiselle  Clairon. — Return  to  London. — 
Disappointment. — Success  in  Belgium. — 30,000  Francs  in  eleven 
Nights. — Corneille's  Anniversary  a  Failure. — Return  to  Paris. — 
"Fredegonde" 89 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER  XI. 
18-13. 
First  Step  in  Life  as  a  Free  Woman. — A  Portrait  au  moral  et  au  phys- 
ique.— Corroboratory  Anecdotes. — Mademoiselle  Aveuel. — The  Cash- 
box. — The  Fascination  of  Gold  on  different  Minds. — Making  Collec- 
tions.— Expensive  Fancies. — The  Guitar Page  101 

CHAPTER  XII. 

1843. 
The  Drama  behind  the  Mask 117 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
1843. 
Phedre:  a  first  Attempt. — "Judith." — An  unexpected  Debutante. — 
Southern  Enthusiasm. — A  Deed  of  Charity. — Debuts  of  Raphael  and 
Rebecca  Felix  in  the  "Cid" 122 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

1844. 
"Berenice."— "Don  Sanche  d'Aragon."—" Catharine  II." 130 

CHAPTER  XV. 
1845. 
Reconciliation  with  the  Public— Classicists  and  Romanticists. — "Vir- 
ginie."— "Oreste" 137 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

1846. 
"Jeanne  d'Arc."— Rachel  in  Holland.— The  Theatre  Fran9ais  a  Land 
of  Promise. — Dissensions  with  the  Management. — A  Soul  of  Fire  in 
an  Envelope  of  Gauze.  —  Mademoiselle  Clairon  and  the  Duke  of 
Choiseul. — Rumored  Conversion. — Cheap  Proselytism. — Amenaide 
without  a  Tancredc. — Death  of  Mademoiselle  Mars. — Retirement  of 
Joannj  and  Mademoiselle  Georges 148 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
1847. 
"L'Ombre  de  Moli^re."— "Le  Vieux  de  la  Montagne."— "  Athalie." 
— "Celimfene."— "Cleopatre" 156 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

1848. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  and  Mademoiselle   Georges. — "Cleopatre  and 

Rodogune." — Influence  of  Revolutions  on  Actors. — Talma  and  Lais. 

—Influence  of  the  Revolution  of  1848  on  dramatic  Literature  and 

Theatricals — Old  Things  new  named. — M.  de  Lamartine's  Rejection 

A2 


X  CONTENTS. 

of  the  Eed  Flag. — Suggestions  of  a  Workman  on  Theatricals. — Beran- 
ger  on  the  Revolution. — A  political  Tragedienne. — "La  Marseillaise." 
— Le  Peuple  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  IS-t-t  and  in  18-18..  Page  171 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
1848. 
Decree  of  the  Citizen  Minister  Ledru  Rollin. — "Lucrece." — Nemesis 
■^"earing  the  Insignia  of  a  Commissaire  de  Police. — Grand  National 
Performance. — The  Blouse  triumphant. — "Les  .Horaces." — "Le 
Malade  Imaginaire." — "La  Marseillaise." — Bouquet  Monsti'e. — A 
Sovereign  more  despotic  than  the  last. — Second  grand  national  Per- 
formance.— Honorable  Testimonial  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel. — En- 
thusiasm at  a  low  Ebb. — Grand  Fetes  and  no  Bread. — Theatricals 
under  Louis  Philippe  and  under  the  Provisional  Government. — 
Death  of  Vemet. — Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  two  Characters  of  the 
same  Play 183 

CHAPTER  XX. 

1848. 
Three  Months  in  the  South  of  France. — Rachel  a  licensed  Propagan- 
dist.— Visit  to  jiauame  Lafarge. — A  public  Confession. — A  hard- 
hearted Father. — Return  to  Paris. — Sketch  of  the  Organization  of 
the  Theatre  Franc^ais. — The  Priestess  turns  her  back  on  the  Temple. 
— A  Visit  of  the  Faculty. — An  uncourteous  Public 195 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

1849. 
A  spoiled  Child. — Proscription  of  "Cinna." — "Le  Moineau  de  Les- 
Lie." — The  real  Adrienne  Lccouvreur. — Funeral  Honors  to  theat- 
rical Talent  in  France  and  in  England  in  1730. — The  Adrienne  Le- 
couvreur  of  Messrs.  Scribe  and  Legouve. — A  characteristic  Let- 
ter   204 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
1849. 
Benefit  of  Mademoiselle  Georges. — The  Thespian  Car  in  1650  and  in 
1849. — Phedre  without  Aricie. — An  Audience  behind  the  Age. — A 
Tune  to  suit  all  Governments. — Life  in  a  Stage-coach. — A  promised 
Conversion. — A  Play  without  an  Audience. — The  Theatre  Fran9ais 
verstis  Mademoiselle  Rachel. — Mademoiselle  Rachel  condemned  to  sing 
the  "Marseillaise" 218 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
1850. 
Resume. — "Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle." — "Angelo." — "Horace  et 
Lydie." — Conge  of  four  Months  spent  almost  entirely  in  Gerrhany. — 
The  peasant  Aunt. — Mother  and  Daughter 230 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

1851. 

State  of  Theatricals  in  1851. — Despoticlnfluence  of  Stars  and  its  bane- 
ful Results. — Dramatic  Authors  manufacturers  to  order. — "Valeria." 
— Conge  of  five  Months  and  a  half. — Italy. — Successor  of  Saint  Peter 
and  the  Children  of  Israel. — Rebecca Page  239 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

1852, 

"Diane." — "Louise  de  Lignerollcs." — Invitation  from  the  King  of 
Prussia. — Severe  Illness. — Homoeopathic  Doctor. — Appearance  at 
the  new  Palace  of  Potsdam. — Presentation  to  the  Empress  of  Russia. 
— The  Czar  Nicholas  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel. — Return  to  Paris. — 
Prolongation  of  Life. — "  Aspasie." — "Rosemonde" 249 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
1853. 

"Lady  TartufFc." — Short  summer  Excursion. — An  obliging  Manager.  ' 
— Engagement  in  Russia. — Permission  of  the  Emperor,  the  Minister 
of  State,  and  the  Comedie  Fran^ais  countersigned  by  M.  Legouve. — 
A  diplomatic  Letter. — The  Author  and  the  Actress. — Friendly  Cor- 
respondence.— "Medee"  asked  for;  "Medee"  written;  "Medee" 
read ;  "  Medee"  revised  and  corrected ;  "  Medee"  approved,  received, 
rehearsed;  "Medee"  put  away  for  another  day. — Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel in  St.  Petersburg. — State  of  Theatricals  in  Russia. — A  witty  , 
Reply 259 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

1854. 

Return  from  Russia. — Prudence  versus  Patriotism. — M.  Legouve  loses 
Patience. — A  Declaration  of  War  before  the  Civil  Tribunal. — Soft 
Words. — M.  Legouve  appeased. — The  Spoiled  Pet  and  the  Public. 
— Another  Quarrel  patched  up. — Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  the  QXzs- 
&\c  Repertoire  at  the  close  of  her  Career. — "Phedrc." — "Camille." — 
A  Souvenir  of  the  Past 275 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

1854. 

The  first  real  Affliction. — Death  of  Rebecca  Felix. — The  Rosary. — 
The  "Pardon." — Miss  Smithson. — Mademoiselle  Sontag. — A  Warn- 
ing.— A  Letter  from  M.  Legouve. — Letters  from  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel and  her  Secretary. — Mademoiselle  Rachel  condemned  to  play 
"Medee." — Mademoiselle  Rachel  doesn't  play  "Medee." — "Rose- 
monde."— Another  Miscalculation 285 


XU  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

1855. 
"La  Czarine." — Melpomene  in  Hysterics. — A  formidable  Rival. — Ade- 
laide Ristori,  the  Siddons  of  Italy. — "Francesca  da  Rimini." — "La 
Pia  de  Tolomei." — "Maria  Stuarda" Page  308 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

1855. 
Departure  for  America. — Passion  for  Cards  and  Affection  for  her  Broth- 
er.— An  ill-advised  Expedition. — Voyage  across  the  Atlantic. — Un- 
pleasant Prediction. — A  sad  Augury. — Our  past  Errors  pursue  us 
through  Life. — A  Stimulant  to  Learning. — Spontaneous  Generosity. 
—  "La  Marseillaise"  in  the  New  World. — A  slight  Cold. — Boston. 
—Philadelphia 319 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

1856. 
Return  to  New  York. — Jules  Janin  in  the  Field  again. — Philadelphia, 
— Le   Commencement  de  la  Fin. — Little  family  Jars. — Charleston. — 
The  last  Performance. — Maurice. — Havana 333 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
1856. 
Meulan. — Hotel  Rachel. — Household  Gods  put  up  at  Auction. — Value 
set  upon  Souvenirs. — Ingenious  Cicerones. — A  Mother's  Letter. — 
Dear-bought  Absence. — Washington's  Grandson. — A  new  Claim  on 
the  Theatre  Fran9ais. — Return  from  Egj-pt. — Sojourn  in  Montpel- 
lier. — Rachel's  Children 345 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
1857. 
Concealment  of  Illness. — Bulletins  of  Health  read  on  the  Stage. — Mole. 
— Nicolet's  Monkey-Actors. — Departure  for  Cannet. — Melancholy 
Pilgrimage. — Cannes. — Villa  at  Cannet. — The  Dream. — Variations 
in  Health  and  Spirits. — Farandoles. — Sister  Sarah. — Raphael  and 
the  Cross. — Last  Autograph. — Hebrew  Prayer. — Death. — Fune- 
ral   358 


MEMOIRS  OF  RACHEL 


CHAPTER  I. 


Parentage.— Abraham  Felix  and  Esther  Haya. — Characteristics  of  the 
Father  reflected  in  the  Daughter.— Nomade  Life.— Birth-place, 
early  Childhood,  and  Tursuits Page  13 

Whenevek  it  happens  that  an  individual  of  low  birth  and 
obscure  origin  springs  into  notoriety  by  the  power  of  genius, 
aided  by  fortuitous  circumstances,  the  anecdote-mongers  and 
scandal-purveyors  of  an  insatiate  public  stretch  theu-  inventive 
faculties  to  the  utmost  verge  of  probability,  and  even  of  pos- 
sibility, in  order  to  invest  with  all  the  hues  of  romance  the  in- 
fancy of  the  child  of  fame.  Denuded  of  these  fanciful  addi- 
tions, the  mere  facts  would,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  possess 
but  little  interest ;  nine  out  of  ten  of  those  whose  genius  and 
talent  illustrate  the  age  in  which  they  live,  and  stamp  on  the 
indehble  page  of  history  the  name  of  their  possessor,  have  had 
as  uninteresting  and  prosaic  a  childhood  as  the  host  of  their 
less  gifted  contemporaries.  The  interest  we  take  in  the  early 
days  of  Rachel  arises,  not  from  her  having  been  a  street-sing- 
er— we  daily  meet  those  little  itinerant  warblers  or  screechers 
without  bestowing  a  thought  on  their  past,  present,  or  future 
— but  from  her  having  subsequently  attained  pre-eminence  in 
a  far  higher  sphere.  As  for  the  thousand  and  one  anecdotes 
that  have  been  circulated  of  her  former  life,  few  are  founded 
on  reality,  and,  even  if  we  grant  them  all  to  be  deserving  of 
credit,  they  are  such  as  might  find  their  counterpart  in  the 
lives  of  the  common  run  of  mortals. 

The  elements  that  afford  an  insight  into  the  character,  the 
feelings,  the  source  of  inspiration,  the  modus  operandi  of  the 
mind — these  are  the  points  that  interest  the  judicious  observ- 
er, these  are  the  really  valuable  traits  which  we  would  record. 
Pruning  the  surcharged  history  of  our  heroine  of  all  incidents 


14  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

not  well  authenticated,  we  still  find  sufficient  to  corroborate 
our  estimate  of  this  very  singular  and  exceptional  character, 
and  in  her  parentage  and  the  circumstances  that  developed  her 
talents,  a  clew  to  much  that  otherwise  would  appear  unex- 
plainable. 

The  Felix  family  is  of  German  -  Rhenish  origin,  though 
Kachel's  father,  a  Frenchman,  was  born  in  Metz.  Abraham 
Felix  studied  in  his  youth  with  the  object  of  becoming  a  rab- 
bi, but  subsequently  forsook  sacred  lore  for  an  avocation  sug- 
gested by  necessity,  and  became  a  traveling  peddler.  A  man 
of  a  I'ather  superior  order  of  intellect,  considering  his  position 
in  society,  and  the  few  opportunities  afforded  him  for  its  de- 
velopment, of  sound  judgment  and  strong  mind,  he  has  never- 
theless been  accused  of  displaying  in  his  manners  the  vanity 
and  self-sufficiency  of  the  parvenu,  and  of  being  another  in- 
stance of  the  fact  that,  whenever  pecuniary  interests  are  in 
question,  the  Jew  blood  is  instantly  on  the  alert,  and  justice 
and  reason  are  unceremoniously  sacrificed  to*  the  love  of  gain. 
He  may  be  described  as  one  of  those  men  who,  sIoav  and  me- 
thodical to  a  fault,  and  usually  governed  by  good  sense,  are  yet 
apt  to  give  way  to  moments  of  anger,  the  fuiy  of  which  is  so 
ungovernable  as  to  terrify  the  members  of  their  households 
into  a  state  of  mute  submission  until  the  storm  subsides — men 
who  contradict,  irritate,  and  worry  the  weak  who  are  in  their 
power,  and,  in  so  doing,  lash  themselves  into  the  most  unrea- 
sonable rages.  This,  however,  in  the  case  of  Rachel's  father, 
happened  but  seldom ;  for,  though  severe,  he  was  generally 
strictly  just.  Whatever  might  be  the  pride  he  felt  in  his 
daughter,  he  never  joined  with  her  mother,  brother,  and  sistei's 
in  their  silly  and  exaggerated  encomiums  of  her  talent.  He 
never  hesitated  to  blame  openly  what  he  did  not  approve,  and 
his  praise  was  the  more  valuable  from  the  caution  with  which 
it  was  bestowed.  His  taste  and  instinctive  knowledge  of  dra- 
matic art  would  have  done  honor  to  a  veteran  stager,  and  to 
his  judicious  advice  Rachel  was  perhaps  indebted  for  much  of 
her  success.  Indeed,  she  inlierited  from  him  so  many  of  the 
most  striking  points  of  her  character,  that  some  knowledge  of 
the  father's  is  necessary  to  gain  a  clew  to  the  daughter's. 

Of  Rachel's  mother,  Esther  Haya  Felix,  it  may  be  sufficient 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  15 

to  say  that  she  was  a  sensible,  kind-hearted,  and  intelligent 
woman,  who,  though  idolizing  her  children,  never  permitted 
the  slightest  disregard  of  her  maternal  authority.  And  one 
of  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  this  family — a  characteristic 
especially  rare  in  the  present  age  of  progress,  Avhen  children 
are  wiser  than  their  fathers,  and  consign  respect  to  age  among 
the  rubbish  of  a  by-gone  time — is  the  unbounded  reverence 
with  which,  whatever  the  success  that  has  attended  their  ca- 
reer, the  younger  members  appear  to  have  always  regarded  its 
heads.  There  is  something  very  beautiful,  and  of  a  Biblical 
character,  in  the  intercourse  between  the  parents  and  the  chil- 
dren, which  reminds  one  of  scenes  in  the  lives  of  the  patriarchs. 

But  with  these  higher  and  finer  traits — these  bright  dashes 
on  the  canvas  of  this  Israelite  tableau  —  are  interminsled 
meaner  and  baser  ones,  the  foul  blotches  inseparable  from  the 
race,  and  conspicuous  wherever  there  is  a  drop  of  the  blood — 
soi'did  littleness,  petty  vanity,  and  inordinate  love  of  show. 
Though  at  heart  a  good  woman,  Madame  Felix  has  been  ac- 
cused of  carrying  to  a  greater  length  than  even  her  husband 
the  parvenu  characteristics,  and  to  have  been  too  apt  in  mat- 
ters of  business  to  bring  to  her  aid  all  the  sharp,  grasping, 
covetous  nature  of  him  who  so  artfully  acquired  his  brother's 
birthright.  In  this  particular,  however  else  they  may  differ, 
the  whole  family  have  shown  but  too  close  a  similarity. 

But  while  tlie  littleness  and  foibles  of  the  Felix  family  are, 
as  we  have  already  said,  distinctive  attributes  of  their  race,  it 
must  be  owned  that  their  great  and  good  qualities  are  no  less 
its  appanage.  Fortitude  in  adversity,  perseverance  in  the  pur- 
suit of  an  object,  religious  reverence  for  family  ties,  and  the 
esimt  lie  corps  that  has  sustained  that  race  and  maintained  its 
existence  through  long  centuries  and  amid  antagonistic  na- 
tions, have  endowed  this  scattered  remnant  of  a  once  mighty 
people  Avith  the  strength  which  they  lack  numerically,  and 
enabled  them  to  maintain  their  long-disputed  footing  amid  the 
peoples  of  Europe.  These  qualities  are  found  unalloyed  in 
the  Felix  family. 

The  marriage  between  the  parents  of  Rachel  was  one  of 
mutual  affection ;  but  the  course  of  true  love  did  not  run 
smoother  in  their  case  than  it  does  in  the  generality  of  in- 


16  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

Stances,  the  elders  long  withholding  their  consent.  At  the 
end  of  two  years  the  perseverance  of  the  lovers  triumphed,  and 
they  were  united.  A  numerous  progeny  was  for  a  long  time 
the  only  wealth  of  this  constant  couple.  Bora  during  the 
course  of  their  mother's  peregrinations,  each  child  was  the  na- 
tive of  a  different  place.  Several  died  in  early  childhood,  and 
six  reached  adultness.  Of  these,  Sarah,  Eaphael,  Leah,  and 
Dinah  still  live ;  Rebecca  died  three  years  ago ;  and  of  the 
death  of  Rachel  we  shall  have  hereafter  to  make  more  partic- 
ular mention.  These  Biblical  names  proclaiming  too  plainly 
the  race  of  the  bearers,  they  were  laid  aside,  and  more  com- 
monplace ones  substituted.  Sarah  and  Raphael  alone  kept 
theirs  ;  the  other  children  Avere  known  as  Eliza,  Rosalie,  Char- 
lotte, and  Emilia.  When  they  subsequently  came  before  the 
public,  however,  the  prestige  attached  to  uncommon  names  in- 
duced them  to  resume  their  original  ones.  On  the  day  of  her 
debut  Eliza  appeared  as  Rachel,  Rosahe  afterward  came  out 
as  Rebecca,  Charlotte  was  Leah,  and  Emilia  Dinah.  Even 
Madame  Felix,  who  had  Christianized  herself  so  far  as  adopt- 
ing the  name  of  Sophia  went,  took  the  more  euphonious  one 
of  Noemi. 

Fortune  long  frowned  on  the  Felix  family.  Pursuing  from 
town  to  village,  and  from  fair  to  fair,  their  precarious  and  toil- 
some career,  earning  with  difficulty  their  uncertain  daily  bread, 
the  parents,  like  the  majority  of  itinerant  Jews,  carried  on  a 
variety  of  avocations,  but  had  no  regular  trade  or  profession. 

Sarah,  the  eldest  child,  was  born  in  Germany,  and  in  the 
very  heart  of  the  Jewish  customs  and  traditions.  Of  all  the 
family,  she  is  the  most  thorough  Hebrew  at  heart. 

Raphael  was  bom  in  Macon,  Rebecca  in  Lyons,  and  Dinah 
in  Paris. 

It  was  in  a  little  MTetched  inn  in  Munf  (Canton  of  Aran, 
Switzerland),  on  the  24th  of  March,  1821,  according  to  the 
best  authenticated  account,  that  the  wife  of  the  poor  peddler 
gave  birth  to  the  child  who  was  to  be  the  source  of  wealth 
and  prosperity  to  the  whole  family.  We  have  given  this  place 
of  birth,  as  we  have  said,  from  the  best  authenticated  accounts  ; 
for,  in  reality,  nothing  can  be  found  to  designate  with  certain- 
ty the  exact  spot.     All  that  remains  to  record  the  event,  so 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  17 

unimportant  to  the  world  at  that  time,  is  an  entry  made  by 
the  burgomaster  of  Aran,  mentioning  that  the  wife  of  a  ped- 
dler had  been  confined  of  a  female  child  in  the  village  of  Munf. 
The  entry  bore  no  mention  of  family  or  religion.  The  birth 
was  regularly  recorded  on  no  civil  or  religious  register  what- 
soever. 

Thus  the  great  tragedienne  of  our  age,  she  whose  renown 
has  been  proclaimed  in  all  Europe  and  confirmed  in  the  New 
"World,  can  not  boast  of  that  which  is  the  patrimony  of  the 
humblest  and  poorest  chUd  of  the  people — an  act  that  proves 
her  identity ! 

For  ten  successive  years  the  family  wandered  throughout 
Switzerland  and  Germany,  and  during  the  course  of  this  weari- 
some pilgrimage,  the  energy  and  perseverance  with  which  the 
mother  sought  to  conquer  adverse  fate  were  indefatigable.  She 
finally  succeeded  in  housing  her  numerous  progeny  in  Lyons, 
where  she  opened  a  paltry  little  second-hand  clothes  shop. 

While  patient  Esther  bought  and  sold  old  clothes,  her  hus- 
band gave  lessons  in  German.  Sarah,  the  eldest  child,  went 
from  one  cafe  to  another  singing,  accompanied  by  her  young- 
er sister,  Rachel,  who  collected  the  copper  donations,  and  the 
children  not  unfrequently  trundled  between  them,  on  a  bar- 
row, a  third  child,  thus  adding  to  the  interest  they  excited, 
and  relieving  their  mother  of  the  care  of  the  baby  for  a  short 
time. 


CPIAPTER  n. 

1830  to  1837. 


Paris. — A  lucky  Meeting. — Mr.  Choron. — The  Cours  St.  Aulaire.^ 
Rachel  at  Thirteen. — Narrative  of  Salema. — An  old  Umbrella  for 
Racine.  —  "  Le  Legataire  Universel. "  —  Precocious  Actress.  —  The 
Conservatoire. — Conflicting  Opinions. — A  Judge  at  Fault. — Unfa- 
vorable Prognostics.  —  "Sell  Bouquets,  girl,  sell  Bouquets." — An 
important  Role. — Agreat  Step  in  Life 17 

ToAVARD  the  year  1830  the  Felix  fiamily  found  means  to 
satisfy  the  craving  desire  that  all  provincials  entertain  to  see 
the  capital.  They  removed  to  Paris,  and  for  some  years  con- 
tinued there  the  life  they  led  in  Lyons. 


18  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

Many  and  contradictory  versions  liave  been  given  of  the 
circumstances  that  led  to  the  cultivation  and  development  of 
the  tragic  genius  whose  latent  spai'k  might,  under  less  propi- 
tious ones,  have  been  stifled  at  its  birth.  The  following  we 
can  vouch  for  as  having  been  the  real  origin  of  Rachel's  for- 
tunate career. 

A  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Morin,  who,  at  the  present 
day,  is  employed  in  a  government  office,  was  one  evening  tak- 
ing his  cup  of  coffee  in  a  cafe,  Kue  de  la  Huchette,  one  of  the 
poorest,  lowest,  and  meanest  streets  of  a  very  poor,  low,  and 
mean  quarter  of  the  tov.'n.  Sarah  was  singing,  and  Eachel 
was  going  the  rounds  of  the  tables,  collecting  contributions 
from  the  guests.  Struck  with  the  exceeding  sweetness  of  the 
elder  girl's  voice — a  voice  possessing  in  an  extraordinary  de- 
gree the  power  of  awakening  a  sympathetic  chord  in  the  heart 
of  the  listener — Mr.  Morin  called  the  singer  to  him,  and  in- 
quired why  she  did  not  find  a  way  to  make  her  voice  more 
profitable  than  it  was  with  her  present  mode  of  using  it — a 
practice  which,  moreover,  exposed  her  to  numerous  insults, 
and  might  result  in  her  finally  losing  it. 

The  girl  replied  that  she  had  no  one  to  take  an  interest  in 
or  to  counsel  her  how  to  act. 

"  Well,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  here  is  my  address ;  come 
to  me  to-morrow,  and  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  a  friend  of 
mine  who  may  be  of  great  service  to  you." 

The  girls  went  the  next  day  to  their  new  protector,  who, 
true  to  his  word,  gave  them  a  letter  to  Mr.  Choron,  then  at 
the  head  of  the  Conservatoire  of  Sacred  Music,  Rue  Yangirad, 
G9.  Choron  heard  Sarah  sing,  and  immediately  admitted  her 
as  a  pupil.     Then  turning  to  Rachel,  he  said, 

"And  what  can  you  do,  Uttle  one?" 

"  I  can  recite  verses,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Recite  verses,  can  you  ?     Pray  let  me  hear  you." 

The  child  complied,  and  the  correctness  and  feeling  ■v\nth 
which  she  uttered  the  pieces  of  her  little  rcpertoiy  were  deem- 
ed remarkable  by  this  competent  judge,  albeit  the  effect  of  the 
recitation  was  somewhat  marred  by  the  gruff  tones  of  the  voice. 
Both  sisters  were  admitted  into  the  Conservatoire,  Rachel  tak- 
ing a  place  among  tlie  choristers. 


MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL.  19 

JJy  the  advice  of  Mr.Clioron,  Rachel  studied  elocution,  and 
was  recommended  by  him  to  St.  Aulaire,  the  manager  of  the 
Salle  Ge'nard,  Kue  de  Lancry,  where  pupils  were  taught  gra- 
tuitously. Her  sister  Sarah  also  followed  the  Cours  there. 
The  talent  innate  in  the  younger  sister  must  have  been  very 
apparent,  for,  unlike  Sarah's,  her  voice  was  peculiarly  grating 
and  disagreeable  in  early  youth,  and  for  a  long  while  seemed 
destined  to  prove  an  insuperable  obstacle  to  success. 

Nor  was  the  exterior  of  the  aspirant  after  histrionic  laurels 
an  auxiliary.  Puny,  meagre,  wiry,  she  appeared  several  years 
younger  than  she  really  was.  The  person  from  whom  these 
particulai'S  were  obtained,  and  who,  for  years,  never  lost  sight 
of  the  fortunate  Jewess,  gives  a  graphic  description  of  her  as 
she  then  appeared.  It  was  in  1834,  on  a  cold,  gray  Novem- 
ber morning,  Kachel  was  dressed  in  a  short  calico  frock,  the 
pattern  of  whicli  was  the  common  one  of  a  red  ground  spot- 
ted with  white  ;  the  trowsers  were  of  the  same  material ;  the 
boots  of  coarse  black  leather,  laced  in  front,  but  scrupulously 
polished.  Iler  hair  was  parted  at  the  back  of  the  head,  and 
hung  down  her  shoulders  in  two  braids.  Every  thing  about 
the  child  was  of  the  cheapest  and  plainest  kind,  but  the  en- 
semble conveyed  an  idea  of  excessive  neatness  and  even  precis- 
ion— characteristics  for  which  she  was  always  noted.  With 
those  older  than  herself  little  Kachel  was  punctiliously  po- 
lite, and  this  manner  proceeded  more  from  intuitive  Jinowl- 
edge  of  the  propriety  of  such  conduct  than  from  lessons  re- 
ceived. She  was  simple  and  grave  beyond  her  years ;  every 
feature  of  the  long,  childish  face  bearing  an  impress  of  mod- 
esty and  even  dignity,  with  which  education  had  had  little  to 
do.  With  children  of  her  own  age  she  was  pert,  bold,  and 
capricious,  resembling  rather  a  fantastic,  tricky  elf  than  the 
serious,  formal  little  dame  she  appeared  in  older  society. 

The  Cours  was  removed  from  the  Rue  Lancry,  and  estab- 
lished momentarily  in  the  Prado,  opposite  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice. It  was  here  that  Rachel's  natui-al  genius  for  tragedy 
was  in  reality  first  revealed.  She  recited  the  narrative  of 
Salema,  in  the  "  Abufar,"  by  Ducis,  describing  the  agony  of 
the  mother  who,  while  expiring  of  thirst  in  a  desert,  gives  birth 
to  her  babe.     While  uttering  the  thrilling  tale,  the  thin  face 


20  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

seemed  to  lengthen  ■n'ith  horror,  the  small,  deep-set  black  eyes 
dilated  with  a  fixed  stare,  as  though  she  witnessed  the  har- 
rowing scene,  and  the  deep  guttural  tones,  despite  a  slight 
Jewish  accent,  awoke  a  nameless  terror  in  the  hearer,  carry- 
ing him  through  the  imaginary  woe  with  a  strange  feeling  of 
reality,  not  to  be  shaken  off  as  long  as  the  sounds  lasted-  To 
elicit  thus  the  sympathetic  attention  of  those  who  heard  her 
was  much,  but  yet  more  was  needed  to  satisfy  a  public  ren- 
dered fastidious  by  the  remembrance  of  past  excellence,  and 
the  constant  habit  of  seeing  new  candidates  for  its  favors. 
The  voice  might  be  tolerated,  as  time  was  expected  to  smooth 
its  discordant  notes  ;  but  the  public  eye  must  also  be  satisfied ; 
and,  until  she  attained  nearly  her  full  growth,  Rachel's  figure, 
all  acute  angles,  resembled  that  of  a  half-starved  monkey. 

The  school  was  finally  removed  to  the  Salle  Moliere  in 
April,  1835,  and  here  the  system  of  teaching  was  somewhat 
changed.  Theatricals  were  got  up  in  which  the  pupils  were 
the  actors,  each  paying  from  one  to  ten  francs  for  the  privi- 
lege, according  to  the  importance  of  the  part  undertaken. 
Sarah,  who  was  supposed  to  be  an  especial  favorite  with  the 
head  of  the  academy,  had  her  own  way.  in  all  things,  and  the 
result  was  that  her  sister  played  any  and  every  thing  without 
paying.  In  fact,  she  learned  indiscriminately  any  part  that 
happened  to  be  wanted,  from  one  of  the  mutes  that  fill  up  the 
background  to  the  most  important  personages  in  tragedy  or 
comedy,  without  any  reference  to  her"  peculiar  disposition  or 
aptness  for  any  one  branch  of  her  art — points  utterly  un- 
heeded by  the  teacher  at  the  time.  This  indifference  seemed 
justified  by  the  insignificant  appearance  she  then  presented. 
Time  seemed  to  pass  over  without  noticing  the  scraggy  little 
elf,  who,  at  fourteen,  hardly  looked  to  be  nine.  During  three 
years  she  did  not  grow  a  line. 

The  following  account  of  the  first  introduction  of  a  well- 
known  feuilletonist  to  the  tragedienne  in  embryo  we  borrow 
from  the  Independence  Beige.  Speaking  of  the  little  theatre 
where  St.  Aulaire  taught  his  pupils  to  appear  with  ease  and 
confidence  before  an  audience,  Mr.  Villemot  says : 

"  It  was  here  that,  in  1835, 1  saw  for  the  first  time  her  who 
was  to  win  such  celebrity.     One  of  my  friends,  a  young  man 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  21 

of  good  family,  and  who  now  occupies  the  post  of  French 
Consul  abroad,  was  possessed  with  a  passion  for  private  the- 
atricals. All  his  leisure  hours  and  all  his  spare  money  he 
spent  in  this  darling  pursuit,  and  I  was  one  day  invited  Avith 
great  solemnity  to  witness  his  performance  of  the  part  oi Dan- 
ville in  the  ^ Ecole  des  Vieillards.^  When  we  entered  the  thea- 
tre, my  friend  stopped  before  a  column  on  which  was  a  smoky 
lamp,  and  against  which  was  leaning  a  meagre,  black,  scraggy, 
poverty-stricken  little  girl,  of  an  aspect  more  wretched  than  I 
can  describe.  '  Eliza,'  quoth  the  amateur  comedian  to  this 
child,  '  which  would  you  rather  have,  a  cake  or  fried  potatoes  ?' 
'  Fried  potatoes,'  was  the  reply. 

"  My  friend,  who,  in  playing  great  characters,  had  acquired 
habits  of  reckless  prodigality,  nlrew  from  his  pocket  a  two-sous 
piece.  Seized  with  a  spirit  of  emulation,  I  bestowed  a  similar 
coin.  The  child  disappeared,  and  returned  almost  immediate- 
ly bearing  a  paper  horn  full  of  fried  potatoes,  temptingly  hot 
and  brown.  She  offered  the  horn  to  her  benefactors,  and  this 
was  the  only  time  I  ever  partook  of  a  meal  with  Mademoiselle 
Eachel.  Young  Eliza  was  to  appear  in  an  after-piece — I  do 
not  know  what  one,  or  in  what  part.  I  did  not  see  her :  my 
friend  had  made  such  poor  work  of  the  part  of  Danville,!  had 
had  quite  enough  of  it.  Going  home,  I  inquired  of  my  friend 
who  was  that  miserable  little  thing.  'That,'  said  he,  'is  a 
very  intelligent  but  very  poor  child,  as  you  see.  You,  who 
are  acquainted  with  authors  and  managers,  might  perhaps  get 
her  employment  in  some  theatre  to  play  childish  parts ;  you 
would  thus  do  her  a  great  favor.' 

"  But  people  are  not  apt  to  interest  themselves  in  meagre, 
dark,  AATCtched-looking  children,  even  when  they  are  gifted 
with  intelligence,  and  the  amateur's  recommendation  was  not 
in  the  present  case  more  successful  than  such  efforts  usually 
are.  "Wlien  Rachel  was  no  longer  in  need  of  assistance,  it 
would  have  been  joyfully  proffered." 

Rachel  thus  continued  to  spend,  or  rather  to  waste  her  time, 
playing  once  a  week,  until  the  year  1836.  About  this  epoch, 
Mr.de  St.  Aulaire,  who  rather  liked  his  little  pupil,  introduced 
her  to  some  of  the  actors  of  the  different  theatres,  who  now 
and  then  came  to  witness  the  performances  of  these  embryo 


22  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

actresses.  Among  these  visitors  was  Monval,  an  actor  of  the 
Gymnase,  of  mediocre  ability  as  an  actor,  but  of  deserved  repu- 
tation as  stage  manager  of  that  theatre.  Monval  was  among 
those  who  took  note  of  the  peculiar  excellence  of  little  Rachel's 
style  of  acting — an  excellence  unfortunately  cast  into  the  shade 
by  the  too  apparent  disadvantages  of  her  form. 

On  the  20th  of  March  of  that  year  the  Conservatoire  de 
Musique  re-opened  its  classes  of  declamation,  and  Sanson,  Mi- 
chelot,  and  Provost  wei'e  appointed  professors.  Many  of  St. 
Aulaire's  pupils  deserted  him  for  the  Conservatoire,  and  Rachel 
was  advised  to  do  the  same.  Ties  of  gratitude,  however, 
bound  the  little  Jewess  to  the  professor  who  had  been  so  kind 
to  her,  and  she  could  not  decently  leave  him  for  the  more  fa- 
vored institution  that  had  eclipsed  his.  At  the  end  of  three 
or  four  months  nearly  all  the  pupils  of  the  Salle  Moliere  had 
left,  seduced  not  only  by  the  rumor  of  the  brilliancy  of  style 
acquired  at  the  Conservatoire,  but  by  a  still  more  potent  con- 
sideration— at  the  public  institution,  no  expense  was  incurred 
by  the  pupils  ;  at  St.  Aulaire's,  a  monthly  sum  of  two  francs 
was  paid  by  each  toward  defraying  the  expenses  of  the  rooms. 
However  small  this  sum  may  seem,  it  was  one  of  importance 
to  many  of  the  contributors.  As  Rachel,  however,  paid  noth- 
ing, this  consideration  could  not  influence  her  and  counter- 
balance gratitude ;  how  far  the  latter  feeling  would  have  con- 
quered had  the  case  been  otherwise,  it  is  hard  to  say. 

An  incident  related  by  herself  proves  both  how  strong  was 
the  vocation  of  the  child  and  how  poor  were  her  circumstances 
at  the  time.  She  owned  an  old  volume  of  Racine,  and  lonsed 
to  become  the  fortunate  possessor  of  another. 

She  had  seen  just  the  book  she  coveted  in  one  of  the  collec- 
tions of  old  books  displayed  for  sale  on  the  quays,  but  the 
franc  needed  for  the  purchase  was  a  sum  for  beyond  her 
means.  The  temptation  at  last  overpowered  all  other  consid- 
erations ;  she  went  to  a  dealer  in  second-hand  articles,  sold 
him  an  old  umbrella,  with  which  she  went  back,  and  forth  to 
the  Cours,  and  bought  the  volume  with  the  twenty  sous  she 
had  thus  obtained.  At  home  she  accounted  for  the  umbrella 
by  saying  she  had  lost  it. 

One  Sunday,  Sanson,  then  at  the  height  of  his  reputation, 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  23 

came  to  St.  Aulaire's  to  see  one  of  his  pupils  act  Lisette  in  the 
"Legataire  Universel,"  a  play  in  which  there  is  an  incidental 
part.  In  the  second  act,  old  Geroute,  who  intends  committing 
matrimony,  receives  a  call  from  his  apothecary,  a  fiery  little 
bantam,  married  to  a  second  wife,  and  who,  having  had  a  fam- 
ily of  fourteen  children  by  the  first  spouse,  confidently  hopes 
that  the  second  may  prove  as  prolific.  He  calls  for  the  pur- 
pose of  entering  a  violent  protest  against  his  customer's  con- 
nubial intentions,  and,  after  an  explosion  of  wrath,  goes  off  in 
a  fury,  prognosticating  all  the  ills  imaginable  to  the  doomed 
patient.  This  part  is  generally  played  by  a  child  ;  but,  though 
tlie  size  of  the  personage  is  thus  represented,  the  7-ole  loses 
sadly  in  other  respects.  On  this  occasion  it  fell  to  Rachel, 
whose  figure  it  exactly  suited,  her  very  defects  proving  serv- 
iceable qualities  in  this  instance.  Here,  too,  her  sharp,  rough 
tones,  her  naturally  tragic  delivery,  her  energetic  bursts  of 
fury,  enabled  her  to  do  ample  justice  to  the  part,  and  elicited 
much  applause.  Sanson  warmly  urged  her  to  join  the  Cours 
of  the  Conservatoire,  and  interest  and  ambition  predominating 
over  gratitude,  she  took  the  advice  of  her  new  acquaintance. 
Having  passed  her  examination,  she  was  admitted,  notwith- 
standing her  dwarf  figure. 

She  reaped  little  advantage  from  the  change  of  quarters. 
She  attracted  little  notice  from  the  professors,  her  voice  mili- 
tating greatly  against  her,  Avhile  her  size  seemed  to  condemn 
her  to  inaction.  Michelot  pronounced  that  her  voice  might 
eventually  render  her  suited  for  tragic  parts,  but  that  her  size 
would  be  an  objection.  Provost  averred  that  her  slender  pro- 
portions might  enable  her  to  play  the  Soubrettes  of  comedy, 
but  that  her  voice  totally  precluded  her  so  doing.  Notwith- 
standing this,  he  caused  her  to  learn  Lisette  in  the  "  Folics 
Amoureuses"  by  Kegnard.  Sanson  refrained  from  expressing 
his  opinion.  On  the  following  Saturday  Provost  heard  her 
repeat  her  part,  and,  according  to  custom,  was  exceedingly 
liarsh  and  violent  with  her.  This  was,  in  fact,  his  manner 
with  all  his  pupils.  He  entered  so  completely  into  the  spirit 
of  the  part,  that  he  did  not  pause  to  consider  that  all  were 
not  imbued  with  his  conception  of  it,  and,  in  consequence  of 
this  arbitrary  view,  any  deviation  was  visited  with  merciless 


24  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

severity.  Rachel  was  snubbed,  scolded,  and  browbeaten  like 
the  rest,  with  the  additional  comment  that  she  had  the  voice  of 
a  costermonger.  "  Go,  child,  go  sell  bouquets  ;  that's  all  you 
will  ever  be  fit  for,"  was  the  comforting  finale  of  the  profess- 
or's lecture. 

Some  months  after  this  stormy  lesson,  the  derided  pupil  had 
an  opportunity  to  remind  the  false  prophet  of  his  dishearten- 
ing predictions.  She  had  played  "  Hermione"  to  an  enthu- 
siastic public,  and  been,  greeted  with  a  shower  of  bouquets. 
When  the  curtain  fell,  gathering  her  trophies  in  the  skirt  of 
her  Grecian  tunic,  she  approached  Provost,  who  was  behind 
the  scenes,  and,  kneeling  with  mock  humiUty,  said, 

"  Sir,  you  once  advised  me  to  sell  bouquets ;  will  you  now 
be  my  first  customer?" 

Provost  gracefully  admitted  his  error,  adding  that  none 
could  rejoice  moi'e  sincerely  than  himself  in  the  falseness  of 
his  prophecy. 

But  that  day  of  triumph  was  still  distant,  and  in  the  mean 
while  the  poor  girl,  who  was  even  at  that  age  obliged  to  have 
her  tonsils  cut,  retired  heart-stricken  and  despairing.  This 
scene  took  place  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1837,  at  which 
time  the  pupils  were  rehearsing  "  TartufFe."  To  Rachel  fell 
the  part  of  FUpotte  !  That,  after  ten  years  of  study,  she  should 
only  be  deemed  worthy  to  receive,  with  speechless  resignation, 
the  box  on  the  ear  fi'om  the  irascible  Madame  Pernelle,  was 
an  insult  too  great  to  be  tolerated,  and  the  hitherto  patient 
and  docile  girl  forsook  the  Conservatoire,  and  sought  the  ad- 
vice of  her  old  friend  St.  Aulaire,  whom  she  begged  to  pro- 
cure her  employment  in  some  theatre  where  she  could  earn  a 
trifle.  St.  Aulaire  spoke  on  the  subject  to  Monval,  who,  hav- 
ing heard  her,  recommended  her  to  his  manager,  Mr.  Poirson. 
Mr.  Poirson  liked  singular  and  eccentric  persons,  and,  hearing 
that  the  girl  was  a  very  odd  little  thing,  engaged  her  at  the — 
to  her — very  high  salary  of  3000  francs  for  three  years.  Her 
abilities  having  been  gauged,  a  piece  in  two  acts,  called  "  La 
Vendeenne,"  was  written  by  Paul  Duport  for  her  debict. 


MKMOIKS    OF    KACHEL. 


CHAPTER  III. 

1837. 

The  Gymnasc. — La  Vendeennc. — The  first  Criticism. — Jules  Janin; 
— Boullo. — An  odd  little  Thing. — Jewish  Esprit  de  Corj/s. — Rachel 
and  Sanson 25 

Thus  she  who  probably  even  then  aspired  to  tread  the  clas- 
sical highway  to  the  Temple  of  Fame,  set  out  by  turning  her 
back  on  the  Greek  and  Koman  Deities  to  enter  the  narrow 
lane  of  the  Vaudeville  drama.  However,  it  was  still  a  begin- 
ning, and,  in  her  situation,  an  unhoped-for  piece  of  good  luck. 
Of  this  debut,  which  took  place  on  the  24th  of  April,  1837,  a 
dramatic  author  of  some  reputation,  JMr.  G.  Rurat  de  Gurgy, 
condescended  to  give  the  following  notice  : 

"  Mademoiselle  Rachel  Felix,  who  is  quite  a  young  person, 
will,  in  the  course  of  time,  prove  herself  possessed  of  one  of  the 
lincst  dramatic  organizations  we  have  yet  seen.  Her  voice  is 
grave  and  penetrating,  and  in  moments  of  passion  its  tones 
soften  and  seem  full  of  tears.  The  success  of  Mademoiselle 
Felix  has  exceeded,  if  possible,  that  of  the  "  Vendeenne,"  which 
had  been  so  arranged  as  to  give  full  scope  to  the  precocious 
powers  of  the  debutante.  She  was  I'ecalled  and  applauded  sev- 
eral times.  The  Theatre  of  the  Gymnase  will  renew  with 
this  young  actress  the  bright  days  of  Mademoiselle  Leontine 
Fry.  The  continuation  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  debuts  has 
not  ceased  to  be  happy,  and  we  are  more  than  ever  disposed 
to  believe  in  the  fair  horoscope  that  is  drawn  for  her  by  all 
who  witness  her  performances.  Good  plays  make  the  repu- 
tation of  actresses,  and  good  actresses  insure  success  to  plays." 

The  above  opinion  could  not,  certes,  at  the  time  it  was  writ- 
ten, be  accused  of  partiality,  or  of  having  emanated  from  par- 
ty feeling.  It  was  as  sincere  as  it  was  just,  and  its  favorable 
prognostics  have  since  been  fulfilled. 

Though  the  groundwork  of  the  drama  of  "  La  Vendeenne," 
and  its  most  pathetic  scenes,  are  openly  borrowed  from  the 

B 


26  MEMOIRS    OF  BACHEL. 

well-known  novel  of  the  "  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian,"  it  possess- 
ed all  the  interest  of  a  new  story.  The  poor  girl  who,  alone, 
unprotected,  sustained  only  by  her  alFection,  travels  from  a  dis- 
tant province  up  to  court  to  implore  mercy  for  a  sister  or  a 
father,  as  the  case  may  be,  must  necessarily  prove  interesting. 
The  plot  is  very  simple.  General  Fresnault  is  sent  to  pacify 
"La  Vendee."  The  general,  though  kind-hearted,  and  desir- 
ous of  sparing  the  Vende'ens,  is  devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the 
First  Consul,  and  is  a  strict  disciplinarian.  On  one  occasion 
an  order  is  dispatched  from  the  court  for  the  arrest  and  deliv- 
ery to  a  court-martial  of  a  certain  Yendeen  peasant  of  the 
uame  of  Thibault.  The  order  is  brought  by  a  young  and  ele- 
gant captain,  an  aid-de-camjj  of  General  Bonaparte,  a  cousin 
of  Josephine's,  a  sort  of  pet  at  the  Malmaison.  When  Victor 
delivers  his  fatal  missive  there  is  in  the  room  a  young  girl,  into 
whose  heart  the  tidings  strike  despair,  for  Thibault  is  her 
father.  The  paroxysm  of  grief  of  the  fair  Genevieve  moves 
the  gay  young  officer  to  disregard  even  a  peremptory  duty ; 
come  what  will,  she  shall  have  time  to  implore  mercy  for  her 
father.  To  afford  her  this  time  he  has  but  one  resource — he 
throws  the  order  in  the  fire. 

From  the  Vendeenne's  cottage,  where  the  first  act  passes, 
the  second  carries  us  into  the  gardens  of  the  Malmaison,  where 
we  find  the  lovely  and  gentle  mistress  also  a  prey  to  anxiety 
for  the  safety  of  him  she  loves.  George  Cadoudal  has  been 
again  busy,  and  a  plan  had  very  recently  been  laid,  and  well- 
nigh  carried  into  execution,  for  the  seizure  and  sending  cap- 
tive into  England  of  the  First  Consul.  The  discovery  of  this 
plot  has  exasperated  its  proposed  victim.  The  time  is  ill  cho- 
sen for  the  petition  of  Victor's  protegee.  He  himself  has  just 
arrived,  and  obtained  an  audience  of  Josephine.  His  cousin 
reproaches  him  for  his  imprudence.  "  Good  heavens !  he  has 
destroyed  one  of  Bonaparte's  dispatches ;  he  has  saved  one  of 
George  Cadoudal's  friends.  You  liave  deserved  death,  young 
madman.     You  will  certainly  be  shot.     Fly!  Victor,  fly!" 

Alas  !  the  advice  of  the  compassionate  Josephine  comes  too 
late,  for  the  imprudent  captain  is  then  and  there  arrested. 

In  the  mean  while,  little  Genevieve  arrives  at  the  chateau. 
She  has  walked  a  long  way ;  she  is  weary  and  foot-sore,  and, 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  27 

now  that  she  lias  reached  the  goal,  every  thing  fails  her  at 
once — her  protector,  Victor,  hope,  courage.  The  child,  thus 
left  to  her  own  resources,  sinks,  faint  and  despairing,  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  empress's  salon.  We  may  well  say  the  empress 
now,  for  on  this  very  day  the  First  Consul  has  resolved  to  ex- 
change the  life-consulship  for  a  royal,  imperial,  hereditary, 
and  perpetual  majesty.  While  Josephine,  thus  raised  to  the 
height  of  honors,  gives  vent  to  her  exultation,  she  hears  the 
broken  sobs  of  the  disconsolate  child.  The  empress  turns  her 
head,  and  Genevieve  is  at  her  feet.  Here  begins  the  scene  on 
which  hangs  the  fate  of  the  chief  dra7naiis  persoticr,  that  of  the 
play  itself,  and  the  success  of  the  dekitante.  The  Jinale  is 
easily  guessed.  The  emperor  inaugurates  his  reign  by  an  act 
of  clemency.  So  fair  a  day  must  be  darkened  by  no  cloud — 
the  captain  and  the  Vcndeen  chief  are  forgiven. 

The  young  actress  had  dressed  the  piece  with  strict  atten- 
tion ;  the  garb  was  the  coarse  one  of  the  Vende'enne  peasant- 
girl,  and  certainly  not  calculated  to  conceal  defects  or  set  off 
beauty  in  the  wearer,  yet  the  illusion  was  complete.  There 
were  two  stanzas  in  her  part,  which,  instead  of  singing,  she 
chanted,  with  the  strangely  moving  intonations,  the  7}}elopa:ia 
which  ten  years  later  were  to  prove  so  effective  in  the  "  Mar- 
seillaise," on  the  boards  of  the  Theritre  Fran9ais.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  hers  was  no  voice  for  singing,  yet  she  threw  such 
feeling  into  the  stanzas  that  it  compensated  the  lack  of  vocal 
powers.     The  following  verse  was  the  most  applauded : 

"  Je  croquais  encore  1'  invoquer; 
Vers  moi  soudain  elle  s'  avance, 
Et  du  doigt  semble  m'  indiquer 
Une  ville  inconnue  immense, 
Un  seul  mot  rompit  le  silence 
'Paris  !'  et  puis  elle  ajouta, 
Comme  en  reponse  a  ma  priere, 
'  Vas  y  seule  a  pied — car  c'est  Ik 
Que  tu  pourras  sauver  ton  pere.'  " 

At  the  rehearsal,  Bouffe,  who  was  present,  was  much 
struck  with  the  singular  mixture  of  strange  qualities  the  de- 
hutante  presented — a  union  of  the  sublime  and  the  grotesque 
— a  casket,  rough-hewn  and  unpolished,  through  which  gleam- 
ed a  priceless  gem.     An  imdefined  sense  of  something  grand 


28  MEMOIRS    OF   EACIIEL. 

lurking  beneath  that  unpropitiating  exterior  pervaded  the 
minds  of  the  spectators,  who  almost  refrained  from  expressing 
an  admiration  they  could  not  satisfactorily  explain  to  them- 
selves. Bouffe  had  never  heard  of  her,  and  the  big  voice,  the 
scrao-ffy  figure,  the  unaffected,  simple  intonation,  the  calm, 
quie't'dignity,  beneath  which  lay  an  extraordinary  depth  of 
passion,  impressed  him  strangely. 

"  What  an  odd  little  girl !"  said  he ;  "  there  is  something 
in  her,  certes,  but  her  place  is  not  here." 

A  far  more  important  critic  than  the  preceding  one  also 
gave  his  opinion  of  the  play  and  of  the  actress.  The  feuilleton 
of  the  Ziebats  of  May  1st,  1837,  contained  the  foUowing : 

"  The  little  drama  ('  La  Vendeenne')  is  sunply  but  clearly 
written.  The  empire  and  La  Vendee,  the  republic  and  the 
monarchy,  all  parties  and  all  persons,  are  handled  with  such 
tact  as  to  give  offense  to  none,  and  numerous  stumbling-blocks 
nicely  avoided.  But  the  production  of  a  drama  was  not  the 
sole  object  the  author  had  in  view ;  the  success  of  his  heroine 
was  to  entail  the  success  of  a  new-comer  on  the  stage,  a  child 
of  scarcely  fifteen  summers,  of  the  name  of  Eachel.  This 
child,  thank  Heaven,  is  not  a  phenomenon,  and  will  never  be 
cried  up  as  a  wonder.  Eachel  has  soul,  heart,  intellect,  and 
very  little  skill.  She  possesses  an  intuitive  perception  of  the 
feeling  she  is  to  express,  and  her  intellect  suffices  to  under- 
stand it.  She  needs  lessons  and. advice  from  no  one.  In  her 
acting  there  is  no  effort,  no  exaggeration ;  she  utters  no 
screams,  makes  no  gestures ;  there  is  nothing  like  coquetry  in 
her  countenance  or  manners  ;  on  the  contrary,  there  is  some- 
thing abrupt,  bold,  and  savage  in  the  attitude,  walk,  and  look 
— such  is  Kachel.  This  child,  whose  instinct  tells  her  what 
is  truth  in  art,  dresses  with  scrupulous  attention  to  local  cos- 
tumes ;  her  voice  is  harsh  and  untutored  like  that  of  a  child ; 
her  hands  are  red  like  those  of  a  child ;  her  foot,  like  her 
hand,  is  scarcely  shaped  yet ;  she  is  not  pretty,  yet  she  pleases; 
in  a  word,  there  is  a  great  future  in  this  young  talent,  and  for 
the  present  she  excites  tears,  emotion,  and  interest." 

The  above  judgment  is  curious,  inasmuch  as,  though  on 
the  whole  very  favorable  to  Rachel,  it  contains  a  sentence 
wholly  and  positively  contradicted  hj  the  writer  himself  with- 


MEMOIES   OF   RACHEL.  29 

in  a  twelvemonth  after,  namely,  that  Rachel  was  not  a  phe- 
nomenon, and  ivould  never  be  cried  up  as  a  tconder.  The  Con- 
stitutionnel  of  May  1st,  also,  though  less  favorable  to  the  play, 
was  quite  as  much  so  to  the  precocious  talent  of  the  actress. 
Beyond  a  few  words  of  praise  in  the  Dibats  of  May  22d,  no 
farther  notice  was  taken  of  the  debutante  for  many  months. 
Her  very  existence  seemed  forgotten  by  the  press. 

The  Jewish  esprit  de  corps  shone  conspicuously  on  the  occa- 
sion of  the  debut  of  a  co-religionist.  Her  father's  traffic,  sta- 
tion, and  circumstances  threw  him  altogether  into  one  class 
of  his  people,  and  that  class,  by  no  means  the  highest,  came 
forth  en  masse  to  sustain  the  neophyte.  The  gods  were  on  that 
occasion  all  Jews.  All  the  cheap  seats  were  crammed  with 
the  chosen  people.  The  "  Vendeenne"  was  acted  sixty  times 
in  succession,  but  the  treasury  was  not  much  benefited  by  the 
influx  of  Israelites,  as  the  galleries  and  pit  alone  were  filled. 
The  vanity  of  the  Felix  family  was,  however,  amply  grati- 
fied, for  these  numerous  supporters  tributed  applause,  which, 
if  not  always  very  judicious,  was  loud,  lusty,  and  prolonged 
ad  infinitum. 

Notwithstanding  this  apparent  success,  Rachel  was  found 
by  the  manager  a  more  difficult  commodity  to  dispose  of  than 
he  had  imagined.  His  was  not  the  stage  for  her  peculiar 
style.  Scribe's  little  comedies,  with  their  prettiness  and  lit- 
tleness, were  totally  unsuited  to  the  manner  of  young  Rachel 
— a  manner  simple,  serious,  verging  already  on  the  sublime ; 
and  the  voice  was  utterly  at  variance  Avith  the  pert,  roguish 
manner  of  the  soubrette.  Finally,  he  intrusted  her  with  the 
role  of  Susanne,  in  the  "Marriage  de  Raison" — a  i-6le  created 
by  Leontine  Fay,  afterward  Madame  Volnys,  who  was  then 
at  the  TheTitre  Frangais.  Rachel,  anxious  to  improve,  went 
to  Madame  Volnys,  and  begged  she  would  give  her  the  bene- 
fit of  her  advice  in  learning  a  part  in  which  she  hei'self  had 
obtained  such  eminent  success.  Madame  Volnys  kindly  com- 
plied, but  licr  tutoring  did  no  good  to  Rachel,  whose  sterling 
and  original  talent  could  not  bend  to  adopt  the  empty,  rapid 
style  of  Leontine.  She  made  her  second  debut  in  this  part  on 
the  18th  of  June.  The  success  obtained  continued  to  be  a 
negative  one,  and  the  cheap  seats  to  be  invaded  by  the  de- 
scendants of  Jacob. 


30  MEMOIRS    OF   KACHEL. 

By  this  time  it  had  become  evident  to  all  that  the  national 
tragic  arena  was  the  only  one  where  the  powers  of  Rachel 
could  find  scope  for  full  development.  She  was  now  sixteen, 
and,  as  though  Nature  had  awaited  the  hour  of  her  debut  to 
join  with  Fortune  in  showering  favors  on  their  gifted  child, 
within  a  few  months  of  that  auspicious  era  in  her  life  the 
dwarfish  figure  had — we  will  not  say  grown,  for  the  word 
scarce  gives  an  idea  of  the  change — elongated  several  inches ! 
She  applied  to  her  former  professor,  Sanson,  who  procured  her 
an  eno-agement  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais,  for  the  first  tragic 
parts,  at  a  salary  of  4000  francs  per  year.  Mr.  Poirson,  con- 
vinced of  her  unfitness  for  his  stage,  kindly  canceled  her  en- 
gagement with  liim. 

From  that  day  forth  Sanson  took  great  interest  in  Rachel, 
and  labored  diligently  to  impart  to  her  the  qualities  for  whicli 
he  was  eminent — clearness  and  simplicity  of  style,  purity  of 
diction.  He  revealed  her  powers  to  the  diligent  pupil,  and 
opened  a  new  sphere  to  her  soaring  spirit.  The  following  an- 
ecdote, told  by  one  who  had  it  from  the  lips  of  his  pupil, 
proves  that  Sanson  saw  the  germ  of  the  bright  future  that  was 
in  store  for  her.  Before  her  engagement  at  the  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais,  of  which  she  was  destined  to  prove  the  restorer  and  chief 
stay,  he  gave  her  two  seats  for  some  performance  he  was  anx- 
ious she  should  witness.  Overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of  the 
treat,  the  girl  donned  her  best  apparel — her  best  was  not  very 
brilliant — and  was  at  the  doors  with  her  mother  at  an  early 
hour.  Looking  disdainfully  at  the  mean  bonnets,  coarse  plaid 
shawls,  and  clogs,  that  were  to  be  inducted  into  the  best  and 
most  conspicuous  places  in  the  house, 

"  Here,"  quoth  the  ticket-taker,  "  you're  not  fit  to  be  seen 
in  those  seats:  take  these;  they  are  quite  good  enough." 

Rachel  was  inclined  to  throw  back  the  tickets  thus  uncere- 
moniously exchanged  for  hers,  but  the  wish  to  see  the  play 
triumphed  over  pride,  and  she  accepted  the  back  seats  at  the 
top  of  the  house. 

AVhen  Sanson  heard  of  the  disrespect  shown  to  his  pupil, 
he  was  exceedingly  angry  with  the  controlleur. 

"  The  little  girl  you  have  treated  so  rudely,"  said  he,  "  jvill 
one  day  have  influence  enougli  to  dispose  of  your  place  at  her 


MEMOIRS    or    RACHEL.  31 

will ;  she  will  one  day  give  the  law  in  the  house  you  would 
have  turned  her  out  of." 

Indeed,  so  much  did  Rachel  profit  by  the  untiring  lessons 
of  this  excellent  teacher,  that  licr  detractors  have  thence  taken 
occasion  to  say  that  without  him  she  would  never  have  at- 
tained her  high  eminence  in  art.  They  have  asserted  that 
Rachel  was,  after  all,  but  an  echo  of  her  professors — a  clear, 
sonorous,  magnificent  echo  certainly,  but  still  only  an  echo. 

It  would  be  absurd  to  assert  that  the  splendid  terrors  of 
that  queenly  brow,  the  impassioned  accents  of  those  eloquent 
lips,  now  full  of  piercing  irony,  now  quivering  with  suppressed 
rage,  are  due  to  mechanical  precision,  to  careful  imitation. 
No,  the  denicrs  of  her  genius  dare  not  go  so  far ;  they  allow 
that  she  understands  tlie  scope  and  design  of  that  which  she 
so  readily  executes,  but  they  will  not  allow  that  her  concep- 
tion is  innate.  They  explain  her  extraordinary  performance 
by  her  wonderful  memory,  and  insist  that  she  is  entirely  in- 
debted to  her  power  of  retaining  and  classifying  in  systematic 
order  the  diflferent  effects  that  have  been  pointed  out  to  her, 
using  them  with  accurate  precision  just  where  they  are  re- 
quired. To  use  the  words  of  one  of  these  iconoclasts,  she 
should  be  regarded  only  as  an  instrument,  but  an  instrument 
gifted  with  a  soul,  which,  in  the  absence  of  the  skillful  hand 
that  draws  forth  its  sweetness,  re-echoes  the  harmonious  note 
that  hand  had  once  awakened.  They  averred  that,  alone  and 
unaided,  she  was  wholly  destitute  of  creative  power,  and  like 
a  diamond  lost  in  the  darkness,  that  awaits  a  foreign  light  to 
throw  forth  its  own  rays.  The  most  incredulous  of  these 
skeptics  allowed,  however,  that  she  possessed  a  wonderful 
organization  of  the  larynx,  and  attributed  to  it  the  transcend- 
ent eflfects  she  produced.  In  proof  of  this  incapacity  to  cre- 
ate, they  alleged  that  every  new  part  she  appeared  in  had  been 
carefully,  indefatigably  conned  over  with  Sanson,  line  by  line, 
word  by  word,  from  the  first  to  the  last  verse  ;  every  attitude, 
gesture,  and  intonation  studied,  weighed,  and  regulated,  the 
hand  of  art  guiding  this  fine  but  nearly  blind  intelligence. 

All  this  may  in  a  measure  be  true ;  but  that  Rachel  had 
immense  native  genius  is  no  less  so ;  and  the  fact  that  art  had 
to  be  called  in  to  guide  and  maintain  it  in  the  true  road,  that 


32  MEMOIES    OP   RA.CIIEL. 

the  lessons  of  wisdom  and  experience  were  needed  to  curb  its 
erratic  propensities  within  the  bounds  of  nature,  does  not  at 
all  gainsay  its  existence.  Were  her  success  entirely  attribu- 
table to  her  professor,  she  would  not  stand  alone  on  the  height 
to  which  she  has  risen,  for  very  many  indeed  have  been  pupils 
of  the  same  master,  and  among  them  we  discern  but  one  Rachel. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    DEBUTS     OF   MADEMOISELLE    RACHEL   m    ALL    HER    CLAS- 
SICAL  ROLES. 

1838  and  1839. 

The  Theatre  Frangais. — Three  Months  of  negative  Success. — "Ca- 
mille." — "Hermione." — "Emilie." — An  unknown  Admirer. — ^Doc- 
tor Veron. — Appearance  of  Kachel  at  that  Time. — The  Prince  of  Crit- 
ics.— A  less  enthusiastic  Admirer. — Agamemnon  and  Clytemnestra, 
Titus,  and  Berenice,  in  brocade,  flowing  wigs,  and  small  swords  ...  32 

The  first  appearance  of  Rachel  on  the  classic  boards  of  the 
Theatre  Fran9ais  was  in  the  part  o^  Camille,  on  the  12th  of 
June,  1838.  The  heat  was  excessive ;  all  town  was  out  of 
town  ;  the  boxes  were  empty  ;  the  pit  and  galleries,  as  usual, 
fiUed  with  Jews,  who  had,  in  behalf  of  Rachel,  made  the  thea- 
tre their  place  of  rendezvous.  Her  success  with  that  audience 
was  complete,  although  surpassed  by  that  which  Joanny,  who 
played  old  Horace,  obtained.  Her  second  debut  was  in  the 
Emilie  of"  Cinna,"  on  the  16th ;  the  third  in  the  Hermione  of 
"  Andromaque,"  on  the  9th  of  July.  When  she  uttered  the 
ironical  passage  of  the  fourth  act,  beginning 

"Seigneur,  dans  cette  aveu  depoui-\'u  d'artifice,"  &c., 
the  applause  was  immense,  though  still  tributed  by  the  pit 
and  galleries  only.  The  receipts  of  the  house  suffice  to  show 
its  emptiness:  on  the  first  night  that  Rachel  played  in  the 
"  Horaces,"  that  is,  on  the  night  of  her  first  debut,  the  amount 
taken  was  753.05  francs;  "Cinna"  brought  558.80  francs; 
"Andromaque,"  373.20  francs.  And  yet,  within  five  months 
from  that  time,  on  the  sixth  occasion  that  she  played  "  Ca- 
mille,"  on  the  10th  of  November  of  the  same  year,  the  receipts 
amounted  to  G124  francs  25  centimes! 

In  this  dearth  of  competent  judges  that  attended  the  advent 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  33 

of  her  who  was  to  insure  a  brilliant  though  transitory  resur- 
rection to  the  muse  of  classical  tragedy,  we  must  record  one 
exception — an  exception  that  was  not  without  its  influence. 
This  was  Doctor  Veron,  the  self-elected  Mcecenas  of  the  young 
French  litterateurs.  We  will  give,  in  the  doctor's  oy^-n  words, 
the  impression  then  made  on  his  very  sensitive  and  enthusi- 
astic organization  by  her  who  was  predestined  to  make  so  deep 
a  one  on  his  heart.  The  commencement  is  in  the  approved 
style  of  romance. 

"  On  a  fine  summer  evening — June  12th,  1838 — in  my 
search  after  shade  and  solitude — shade  and  solitude  may  be 
found  even  in  Paris  by  him  who  seeketh  diligently — I  entered 
the  Theatre  Frangais.  It  was  about  eight  o'clock,  and  I  con- 
stituted the  tifth  person  in  the  orchestra  seats.  My  attention 
was  drawn  to  the  stage  by  a  strange  and  exceedingly  express- 
ive countenance,  a  prominent  brow,  a  dark  eye,  deep  set  and 
full  of  fire  ;  this  head  was  set  on  a  figure  which,  though  thin, 
was  not  devoid  of  a  certain  elegance  of  attitude,  motion,  and 
gesture.  A  voice  clear,  sympathetic,  finely  toned,  and,  above 
all,  cleverly  managed,  roused  my  mind,  which  at  that  moment 
was  more  inclined  to  indolence  than  to  admiration."  With 
the  exception  of  the  eyes,  which  are  not  at  all  "  full  of  fire," 
but,  on  the  contrary,  resemble  two  dead-black  spots  of  ink  un- 
der the  cavernous  brows,  the  doctor,  diving  into  the  depths  of 
his  memory,  then  recalls  a  confused  vision  of  that  singular 
countenance,  seen  in  the  rule  of"  La  Vendecnne"  at  the  Gym- 
nase  ;  he  remembers  a  young  girl,  meanly  dressed  and  coarsely 
shoed,  who,  being  questioned  before  him  in  the  green-room  as 
to  what  she  did  there,  replied,  much  to  his  surprise,  in  a  deep 
bass  voice,  "  I  am  pursuing  my  studies." 

The  susceptible  doctor,  who  acknowledges  that  with  him 
there  is  no  middle  course  between  admiration  and  abhorrence, 
became  from  that  evening  a  passionate  admirer  of  Mademoi- 
selle Kachel,  whom  he  already  pronounced  a  little  prodigy. 
"When,"  said  he  to  a  friend,  whom  he  was  endeavoring  to 
inoculate  with  his  ardent  enthusiasm,  "  the  twelve  or  fifteen 
hundred  men  of  wit,  who  constitute  public  opinion  in  Paris, 
shall  have  heard  and  appreciated  her,  that  child  will  be  the 
glory  and  fortune  of  '  la  Come'die  Fran^aise.'  " 

B2 


34  MEJIOIKS    OF    KACIIEL. 

Three  montlis  elapsed,  during  which  the  debutante  acted  in 
succession  all  the  stock  pieces  and  acquired  the  stage  practice 
she  might  have  lacked  hitherto;  but  from  the  12th  of  June 
to  the  9th  of  September  not  a  word  was  said  of  her  in  the 
Dchats  that  had  been  once  so  loud  in  her  praise.  Jules  Janin, 
who  held  the  sceptre  of  criticism  in  that  paper,  was  absent 
from  Paris,  and  in  the  interim  it  was  wielded  by  Frederic 
Soulie,  the  most  noted  opponent  of  classic  tragedy,  and  who, 
therefore,  could  see  no  merit  in  the  interpreter  of  Corneille  and 
Racine. 

Meanwhile  the  autumn  was  approaching,  and  the  theatre- 
going  public  began  to  return  to  the  capital.  Jules  Janin,  who 
had  been  spending  some  time  in  Italy,  made  his  appearance  in 
the  beginning  of  September.  To  the  inquiries  of  his  friends 
as  to  what  he  had  seen,  he  answered,  somewhat  in  the  style 
of  Sir  Charles  Coldstream  in  "  Used  up,"  "  Nothing  worth 
mentioning ;  Rome,  Naples,  Baia,  Pompeii,  the  old  shades  of 
antiquity.  And  what  have  you  got  new  in  Paris ?"  "Noth- 
ing," was  the  reply,  "  unless  it  be  a  little  debutante  at  the 
Theatre  Fran(;ais — an  odd  little  mortal  who  makes  a  singular 
impression.  If  you  have  nothing  better  to  do,  go  and  see  the 
little  wretch  ;  though  she  is  a  perfect  fright,  it  is  worth  your 
while  to  see  her  once." 

The  sentence  thus  lightly  passed  on  Rachel's  outward  ap- 
pearance was  exceedingly  unjust,  for  though  at  the  time  she 
was  no  beauty,  and  from  a  distance  was  seen  at  great  disad- 
vantage, she  was  far  from  ugly.  The  features  were  too  deli- 
cate for  stage  effect,  their  peculiar  charm  being  lost  on  the 
spectators  unless  within  a  few  paces.  The  coal-black  eyes, 
under  the  influence  of  intense  passion,  seemed  to  retreat  under 
the  jutting  forehead,  and  were  tl^pn  supposed  to  be  very  small. 
Her  greatest  deficiency  at  that  epoch  was  in  her  figure,  Avhich, 
under  the  pressure  of  sudden  growth,  had  lengthened  without 
having  as  yet  acquired  fullness  and  roundness  of  contour. 
There  remained  none  of  the  angularity  and  scragginess  of  for- 
mer days,  while  habit  of  the  stage  had  imparted  grace  and 
ease.  She  resembled  a  frail  reed  ready  to  bend  at  the  slight- 
est breath. 

Tire  omnipotent  critic  finally  consented  to  waste  an  hour  in 


MEMOIRS    OF    UACIIEL.  35 

hearing  the  "  little  frvjht:'     At  the  end  of  the  first  act  he  had 
allowed  that  "there  was  something  very  extraordinary  in  the 
girl."     At  tlie  close  of  the  second  he  was  in  a  perfect  trans- 
port of  admiration.     "  You  ask  me,"  he  exclaimed,  "  what 
wonders  I  have  seen  in  Italy,  where  every  thing  has  been  de- 
Bcribed  scores  of  times ;  and  you  tell  me  there  is  nothing  in 
Paris  worth  seeing,  where,  in  truth,  you  have  a  new  and  per- 
fect wonder.     1  went  abroad  to  find  antiquity  dead  and  crum- 
bling into  dust ;  I  return  here  to  tind  it  full  of  life  and  soul, 
embodied  in  yonder  frail  reed,  &c.,  &c.,  &c."      On  the  follow- 
ing Monday  the  J'cuilkton  of  the  Debats,  redolent  with  enthusi- 
asm from  beginning  to  end,  revealed  to  the  world  the  wondrous 
creature  whose  existence  it  had  hitherto  ignored.     Eight  days 
after,  the  receipts  began  to  tell  in  tbe  treasury  of  the  Theatre 
Fran^ais ;  witliin  a  fortnight,  the  fashionable  absentees  were 
hastily  quitting  their  chateaux  to  Avitness  in  Paris  the  dra- 
matic revolution  operated  by  the  young  Jewess.    Without  seek- 
ing to  detract  from  merit  too  universally  acknowledged  not  to 
be  real,  it  must  be  ow-ned  that  so  sudden  a  triumph  was  more 
the  work  of  what  in  France  is  emphatically  denominated  La 
Clique  than  the  result  of  that  merit.    To  Jules  Janin  belongs  the 
credit  of  having  in  the  space  of  a  week  turned  the  tide  of  for- 
tune and  placed  this  new  idol  on  the  pedostal.     She  might  in 
time  have  climbed  alone,  but  by  him  she  was  lifted  there  at  once. 
Mr.  Granier  de  Cassagnac  was  at  this  time  publishing  in 
"La  Presse"  a  series  of  highly  interesting  and  curious  articles 
on  the  Classic  Drama,  in  which  he  emitted,  supporting  them 
with    admirable    reasons,   the   most  extraordinary    opinions. 
Among  his  Quixotic  attempts  was  one  which,  had  it  succeed- 
ed, would  have  completely  reversed  the  inise  en  scene  now  adopt- 
ed :   the  talented  critic  insisted  that  the  tragedies  of  Eacine 
and  Corneille  should  be  brought  on  the  stage  with  the  cos- 
tumes in  vogue  at  the  time  they  were  written ;  that  Achilles 
and  Julius  Ca?sar  should  appear   in  flowing  wig  and  small 
sword,  doublet  and  hose,  and  Andromaque  and  Berenice  in 
the  brocade  gowns  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.     He  held  the 
Greek  and  Roman  dresses  designed  by  David,  and  first  intro- 
duced by  Talma,  to  be  perfectly  absurd,  ridiculous,  and  out  of 
place,  especially  those  of  the  Roman  women. 


3G  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

"  Can  any  thing,"  he  exclaims,  "  be  less  picturesque  than 
that  immense  woolen  or  muslin  cocoon,  with  a  woman  in  the 
midst,  whose  feet,  and  even  whose  hands,  are  invisible?  Be- 
sides, the  dress  of  the  Romans  underwent  changes,  and  in  the 
reign  of  Tiberius,  the  Greek  fashions  were  adopted  for  furni- 
ture as  well  as  for  garments.  Sumptuary  laws  also  regulated 
the  dress  of  magistrates  and  citizens,  of  men  and  of  women, 
and  prescribed  different  forms  and  colors,  according  to  the  age, 
the  functions,  and  rank  of  the  wearer.  An  actor  is  not  dress- 
ed in  character  as  a  Roman  merely  because  his  legs  are  bare, 
his  hair  cut  short,  and  that  he  wears  a  few  yards  of  flannel  on 
his  back." 

Though  the  arguments  of  IMr.  Granier  de  Cassagnac  caused 
no  revolution  in  modern  theatricals,  his  opinion  on  the  talent 
and  abilities  of  actors  had  equal  weight  with  that  of  the  elo- 
quent partisan  of  the  antagonistic  school,  nor  did  he  withhold 
the  meed  of  his  praise  from  the  young  debutante.  His  praise 
was  much  less  enthusiastic  than  that  of  Jules  Janin,  but  no 
less  valuable ;  and  though  at  times  tempered  even  to  frigidity 
by  the  predilections  of  the  critic  for  the  modern  school  of  drama, 
it  was  accompanied  by  most  judicious  suggestions.  His  com- 
mendations and  strictures  may  be  gathered  from  the  following 
specimens. 

"That  which  in  our  opinion  particularizes  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  is  that  her  enunciation  is  simple,  pure,  and  sustained. 
Each  word  falls  distinctly  and  harmoniously  on  the  car,  with- 
out the  loss  of  a  syllable.  The  gesture  naturally  accords  with 
tlie  voice.  A  noble  elocution  is  always  accomjianied  by  a  dig- 
nified motion,  and  when  the  lips  mumble,  the  arms  are  equally 
faulty  in  their  action. 

"  As  for  saying  that  Mademoiselle  Rachel  is  a  prodigy,  that 
we  can  not  do.  She  acts  well  one  scene  out  of  three,  and  that 
is  in  itself  a  great  deal.  In  her  manner  there  is  evidently 
much  that  is  her  own,  and  that  is  good;  but  she  has  also 
many  faults  which  she  has  acquired  from  others.  She  as  yet 
bawls  too  much,  stamps  too  much,  and  goes  in  and  out  too 
sharply — all  faults  for  which  she  is  indebted  to  her  venerable 
teachers  of  traditional  acting.  It  is  clear  that  much  of  her 
play  is  the  second  edition  of  Mr.  Sanson's." — Feuilkton  de 
la  Prefise,  September  23,  1838. 


MEMOIRS    OF    UACUEL.  37 


CHAPTER  V. 

Enthusiasm  of  the  Public. — ^Louis  Philippe  and  Rachel. — Royal  jNIunifi- 
cencc  in  past  and  present  Times. — An  Increase  of  Salary. — System 
of  Starring  and  its  ill  Effects. — Monime. — Behind  the  Curtains ;  La 
Rue  Traversiere. — A  Step  upward  in  private  Life. — Peace  broken 
between  the  Sodetaires  and  the  Pet  of  the  Public. — Bajazet ;  a  crit- 
ical Moment. — Reminiscences  of  Mademoiselle  Mars. — Artistic  Map- 
nanimity  and  Vanity 37 

"While  severe  critics  thus  deliberately  weighed  the  merits 
and  demerits  of  the  artiste  and  her  style  of  acting,  the  effect 
of  that  style  on  the  public  was  electric,  and  few  paused  to  an- 
alyze causes  or  cavil  at  details.  The  enthusiasm  excited  by 
Kachel  repeatedly  found  an  eloquent  interpreter  in  Jules 
Janin  :  "  This  poor  child,  pale,  slender,  and  ill-fed,  on  whom 
ancient  tragedy  leans  like  blind  and  bloody  tEdipus  on  An- 
tigone, alone  suffices  to  bring  crowds  to  the  lately  deserted 
The'atre  Frangais The  task  of  resuscitating  this  glori- 
ous body ;  of  recalling  the  illustrious  exiles ;  of  cleaning  the 
Augean  stables  of  their  literary  rubbish  ;  of  restoring  life, 
thought,  motion,  passion,  interest,  to  the  imperishable  master- 
pieces that,  for  lack  of  an  interpreter,  for  lack  of  that  spark 
of  sacred  fire  which  emanates  from  the  soul  and  lights  the 
glance,  were  dying — this  was  indeed  an  immense  task ;  and 
when  we  reflect  that  it  is  undertaken  by  a  child,  ignorant  of 
the  things  of  this  world,  who  knows  nothing  either  o^poetiy, 
of  history,  of  the  passions  she  delineates,  or  even  of  the  lan- 
guage she  speaks,  we  admire  and  wonder,  and  we  ask  how  it 
is  that  a  task  deemed  impracticable  should  have  been  accom- 
plished with  such  apparent  ease  and  by  so  weak  an  instru- 
ment. The  reason  is  that  this  child  possesses  that  which  is 
superior  to  science  —  inspiration.  She  brought  with  her  at 
her  birth  the  something  divine,  mens  divinior,  that  feeds  poetry. 
Her  very  ignorance  was  of  more  use  to  her  than  study ;  had 
she  realized  the  extent  of  her  undertaking,  how  thick  was  the 
layer  of  ashes  that  concealed  tlie  spark  she  was  to  reanimate 


38  5IEM0IKS    OF    RACHEL. 

with  her  breath,  had  she  known  how  dead  was  the  corpse  to 
which  she  was  uniting  her  timid  and  sickly  sixteenth  year, 
she  would,  certes,  have  recoiled,  and  forsaken  the  work. 

"  Fortunately,  she  saw  not  the  danger ;  she  rushed  into  it 
with  dauntless  brow;  she  put  her  trust  in  the  great  masters 
whom  none  of  those  around  her  trusted;  she  did  not  despair  of 
the  master-pieces  insulted  by  the  present  generation  ;  her  very 
boldness  carried  her  through  ;  her  faith  saved  her,  her  natural 
good  sense  preserved  her  from  all  declamation.  She  had  con- 
quered her  domain ;  she  had  done  more  than  conquer  it,  she 
had  discovered  it,  and  now  reigned  there  a  sovereign." 

We  have  left  behind  us  the  trials  and  vicissitudes  of  Rachel's 
early  youth,  and  the  succeeding  pages  record  an  uninterrupted 
series  of  triumphs,  varied  only  by  pleasing  incidents  in  public 
life,  and  by  no  very  severe  heart-aches  in  the  private  circle. 

On  the  1st  of  October,  1838,  the  theatre,  completely  cram- 
med —  every  seat  having  been  taken  beforehand  —  drew  be- 
tween 5  and  GOOO  francs.  The  triumphant  days  of  Talma  and 
Mile.  Mars  when  at  the  zenith  of  their  fame  were  even  equaled. 
The  princes  of  the  house  of  Orleans  all  came  in  succession  to 
see  the  phenomenon.  The  duchess  testified  her  approbation 
by  the  gift  of  a  bracelet — a  gold  chain  clasped  by  a  cushion 
bearing  a  dog.  This  simple  gift  would,  a  few  years  later,  have 
appeared  to  the  spoiled  actress  but  a  poor  token ;  but  it  was 
then  a  great  thing  for  her,  the  rather,  too,  as  it  was  not  cus- 
tomary for  the  family  then  on  the  throne  to  take  any  notice 
of  debutantes.  The  sovereign  himself,  who  never  went  to  any 
theatre,  honored  the  star  by  going  to  see  her  in  the  part  of 
Emilie*\n  "  Cinna."  A  judicious  friend  took  care  that  the 
king  should  meet  the  heroine  as  he  passed  out.  His  majesty, 
taking  her  trembling  hand  in  his,  assured  her  very  kindly  that 
he  had  been  much  pleased  with  her  performance,  and  would 
be  glad  to  see  her  again.  Bashful  and  confused  in  attempting 
to  express  her  gratitude.  Mademoiselle  Eachel  addressed  the 
king  as  Monsieur.  When  subsequently  reminded  of  her  mis- 
take by  her  companion,  Madame  Tousez,  she  merrily  excused 
it,  saying  that  she  was  so  accustomed  to  converse  with  the 
Greek  and  Roman  monarchs,  she  had  neglected  to  learn  how 
to  speak  to  those  of  modern  date. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  30 

During  preceding  reigns,  an  actress  whose  performance  had 
attracted  the  notice  and  received  the  approbation  of  royalty 
■would  have  been  honored  with  magnificent  testimonials  of  that 
approbation.  From  the  gracious  Marie  Antoinette  she  would 
have  received  several  costly  dresses,  to  which  Madame  Ade- 
laide (the  daughter  of  Louis  XV.)  would  have  added  a  set  of 
jewels.  The  generous  Josephine  would  have  sent,  through 
one  of  her  chamberlains,  a  magnificent  tiara ;  Queen  Hortense, 
an  Indian  shawl ;  and,  certcs,  the  Emperor  Napoleon  would 
not  have  failed  to  send  a  page  bearing  a  present  gift  of  five 
hundred  louis,  and  a  deed  of  pension  of  at  least  six  thousand 
francs.  We  have  recorded  the  simple  offering  of  the  Duchess 
of  Orleans.  On  the  day  after  the  king's  visit  to  the  theatre, 
a  footman  in  the  royal  livery  brought  [Mademoiselle  Rachel  a 
present  of  one  thousand  francs  from  his  majesty.  Times  were 
changed  ;  the  court  of  the  citizen  king  was  less  lavish  or  less 
rich  than  that  of  his  predecessors  on  the  throne,  and  the  royal 
gift  was  held  to  be  munificent ;  it  Avas,  moreover,  the  first  that 
had  been  bestowed  on  an  actor  or  actress  since  the  advent  of 
Louis  Philippe. 

Great  indeed  must  have  been  the  astonishment  of  Rachel 
herself  at  this  unexpected  and  extraordinary  success.  It  was 
not  as  though  she  had  won  the  favor  of  an  intelligent  public 
at  her  first  appearance.  She  had  been  playing  for  months 
with  the  negative  success  resulting  from  the  applause  of  the 
herd  of  low  and  unappreciating  co-religionists,  who  had  en- 
couraged her  more  from  esj)rit  de  corps  than  real  admiration, 
and  she  found  herself  transferred  suddenly  into  another  sphere, 
and  receiving  the  homage  and  plaudits  of  the  most  refined, 
difllcult,  and  exacting  audience  in  the  world. 

On  the  1st  of  October  her  engagement  of  three  years  at  4000 
francs  per  annum  was  voluntarily  canceled  by  the  grateful 
committee  of  management,  and  renewed  at  the  rate  of  8000 
francs  per  annum.  Until  the  year  1840,  this  was  deemed 
enormous,  as  the  extravagant  salaries  now  paid  to  favorite 
artists  had  never  yet  been  heard  of,  and  the  system  of  starring 
and  the  exacting  demands  of  those  petted  autocrats  were  un- 
known. The  invention  belongs  exclusively  to  the  English  and 
Americans,  and  has  proved  a  baneful  one  to  l)oth  the  public 


40  ■         MEMOIRS   OF   KACIIEL. 

and  the  managers.  Art  itself  has  been  a  loser  by  this  pitiful 
system  of  attracting  and  concentrating  the  attention  of  the  pub- 
lic on  one  person  at  the  expense  of  all  the  other  actors,  who 
are  depressed  and  impoverished  in  order  that  one  lucky  indi- 
vidual may  be  enriched  and  spoiled.  The  result  is  the  ruin 
of  managers,  the  failure  of  enterprise,  and  the  death  of  art, 
which  lives,  not  by  one,  but  by  all. 

Shortly  after,  "  Mithridates"  was  revived  for  Eachel,  who, 
in  the  part  o^ Monime,  elicited  new  bursts  of  admiration.  The 
committee  presented  her  with  its  first  gift,  consisting  of  all  the 
plays  in  which  she  had  appeared,  each  separately  and  splen- 
didly boimd,  with  her  name  and  the  date  of  her  first  perform- 
ance in  the  part  inscribed  in  golden  letters  on  the  back.  Short- 
ly after,  the  committee  presented  to  the  gentle  and  sublime 
Monime  a  tiara  of  gold  and  precious  stones,  thus  splendidly 
recording  the  triumph  of  the  queen  even  when  she  falls  in  the 
snare  laid  for  her  by  the  wily  King  of  Pontus. 

Though  the  public  thus  graciously  received  Mademoiselle 
Eachel's  Monime,  critics  were  not  unanimous  in  its  praise,  and 
Granier  de  Cassagnac  was  particularly  severe:   '■'■Mithridates 

was  ridiculouslij  i^layed Mademoiselle  Rachel  uttered  fifteen 

lines  decently,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  part  in  the  coldest  and  most 
colorless  manner." — Feuilleton  of  ''La  Pressc,"  October  7,  1838. 

While  one  of  the  writers  of  "La  Presse"  thus  sweepingly 
anathematized  the  style  of  the  actress,  another,  and  one  of  no 
little  influence  in  the  literaiy,  world,  was  as  extreme  in  com- 
mendations. The  feuilleton  of  the  18tli  of  December,  signed 
by  the  Vicomte  de  Launay,  the  pseudonym  of  the  gifted  wife  of 
the  editor,  extols  the  talent  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  extrava- 
gant terms.  The  enthusiasm,  however,  finds  an  explanation 
in  the  feuilleton  of  the  29th,  signed  by  tlie  same  nom  de  ]:>lume: 
"  Mademoiselle  Eachel  was  last  Tuesday  sublime  in  '  Bajazet.' 
The  progress  she  makes  is  marvelous.  Among  the  on  dits,  it 
is  rumored  that  Madame  Emile  de  Girardin  has  just  finished 
a.  tragedy  entitled  '  Judith,'  written  expressly  for  Mademoiselle 
Eachel." 

At  this  stage  of  her  successful  career  Rachel  was  living  at 
No.  37  Eue  Traversiere  St.  Honore,  a  street  since  called  Eue 
de  la  Fontaine  Molierc,  and  the  contrast  presented  by  her  pub- 


MEMOIES    OP    RACHEL.  41 


lie  and  private  life  was  curious  enough.  At  home,  she  who, 
in  the  part  of  a  tragic  princess,  had  some  hours  before  been 
deluged  with  bouquets  and  applauded  to  the  skies,  resembled 
Cinderella  after  her  escape  from  the  ball,  surrounded  by  all 
the  attributes  of  poverty.  The  dwelling  itself  was  scarcely 
larger  than  the  cobbler's  stall, 

"That  sen-cd  him  for  parlor,  for  kitchen,  and  hall," 
and  consisted  of  a  dining-room  containing  a  table  and  a  few 
chairs,  the  bed-room  of  the  father  and  mother,  and  a  kitchen, 
of  which  Rachel  had  charge,  and  which  was  kept  scrupulously 
neat  and  in  excellent  order.  In  the  kitchen  was  a  steep  stair- 
case leading  to  an  attic  in  which  were  three  small  beds;  in 
one  of  these  slept  Rosalie  and  Charlotte,  in  the  other  Raphael, 
and  in  the  third  Rachel  with,  the  little  Emilia,  then  three  years 
old.  In  this  mean  bed,  used  by  day  as  a  sofa,  the  star  that 
nightly  drew  all  the  denizens  of  the  world  of  fashion  to  one 
common  centre  was  wont  to  con  the  splendid  creations  of  Ra- 
cine and  Corneille,  developing  that  marvelous  faculty  of  inter- 
preting each  master-piece  which  astonished  as  much  as  it  de- 
lighted the  public.  Those  who  were  then  on  terms  of  inti- 
macy wi:'i  her  remember  her  in  the  little  kitchen  preparing 
the  vegetables  for  the  jwt  mi  feu,  chatting  meanwhile  with  the 
friend  who  had  happened  to  look  in,  and  now  and  then  inter- 
rupting her  culinary  cares  to  still  the  noise  of  the  younger 
children,  over  whom  she  exercised  a  maternal  surveillance  in 
the  absence  of  the  mother.  In  all  things,  from  the  most  tri- 
fling to  the  most  important,  Rachel  preserved  the  same  quiet, 
grave,  even  dignified  aspect ;  and  it  was  something  akin  to  the 
ludicrous  to  see  her  put  down  the  carrot  she  was  scraping  ia 
order  to  bestow  the  most  unpoetical,  the  most  matter-of-fact 
of  all  corrections  on  the  refractory  little  sister,  with  the  same 
unmoved,  nay,  almost  solemn  expression  of  countenance,  then 
return  to  her  occupation  and  the  subject  she  was  discussing, 
as  though  the  interlude  had  been  a  part  of  the  performance 
announced  in  the  programme.  There  was  no  explosion  of 
anger,  no  violent  scolding ;  the  whipping  was  by  rule,  and 
constituted  part  of  a  system. 

Meanwhile  the  success  of  Rachel  was  daily  on  the  increase. 
The  most  aristocratic  circles  were  anxious  to  have  her  appear  in 


42  BIEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

their  salons;  but  this  her  severe  and  judicious  professor  stout- 
ly opposed.  He  interdicted  all  soirees,  all  readings  in  private 
circles,  alleging  that  Rachel  owed  it  to  the  public  and  to  her 
own  fame  to  devote  all  her  time  to  study.  An  exception 
which  opened  the  door  to  all  other  invitations  was  finally  made 
in  favor  of  a  Polish  countess,  who  pleaded  that  her  husband, 
confined  to  his  chair  by  continual  indisposition,  could  not  go 
and  hear  the  young  actress  on  the  stage.  An  elegant  tur- 
quoise bracelet  clasped  with  a  knot  of  small  diamonds  was  the 
token  of  gratitude  of  the  hostess.  The  pleasure  with  which 
Rachel  received  and  wore  this  gift  far  surpassed  that  which 
she  has  since  felt  in  the  many  splendid  ones  presented  to  her. 
Then  it  was  the  joy  of  the  girl,  delighted  with  an  ornament. 
A  far  less  innocent  feeling  was  that  with  which  in  after  years 
she  greeted  every  addition  to  her  casket. 

The  precedent  of  the  Polish  countess  was  urged  by  those 
whom  it  was  policy  not  to  offend;  another  dramatic  soiree 
and  another  present — a  turquoise  serpent — Avas  the  result. 
The  rule  once  broken,  there  was  a  perfect  inundation,  and  the 
teacher's  advice  was  wholly  disregarded.  It  may  have  been 
quite  as  beneficial  for  her  to  go  into  society  as  to  study  in  the 
solitude  of  her  attic.  The  actor  should  study  human  nature 
in  all  its  phases,  and  the  knowledge  acquired  in  books  is  turned 
to  better  account  when  tested  on  living  types.  The  proof  of 
this  is  that  the  talent  of  Rachel,  far  from  fallina:  off  or  remain- 
ing  at  a  stand-still  after  her  introduction  into  society,  con- 
tinued on  the  increase  until  it  reached  its  complete  develop- 
ment. 

Rachel  had  now  been  successful  in  six  of  the  most  brilliant 
tragedies  of  the  classic  scene ;  she  had  acted  Camille  in  the 
"Horaces;"  Emilie  in  "  Cinna ;"  Hcrmione  in  "  Andro- 
raaque;"  ^me?ia/(;?e  in  "  Tancrede  ;"  Eriphik  in  "  Iphigenie  en 
Aulide  ;"  and  Monime  in  "  Mithridates."  On  the  23d  of  No- 
vember the  play-bills  announced  "Bajazet." 

It  was  while  this  tragedy  was  in  rehearsal  that  the  socic- 
taires  of  the  Theatre  rran(;'ais  and  the  partisans  of  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel  commenced  the  series  of  complaints  and  recrim- 
inations that  for  some  time  divided  newspaper  writers  and  the 
public  into  two  parties.     The  Theatre  FranQais,  which,  as  al- 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  43 

ready  mentioned,  had  been  declining  so  rapidly  as  to  have 
reached  the  brink  of  irretrievable  ruin  at  the  advent  of  Ka- 
chcl,  was  now,  thanks  to  her  popularity,  in  a  most  prosjjerous 
vein.  The  actress  who  for  two  months  had  played  to  a  "  beg- 
garly array  of  empty  boxes,"  and  to  her  Israelite  friends  in 
the  pit  and  upper  tier,  now  brought  into  the  house  the  unpre- 
cedented sum  of  GOOO  francs  on  every  night  she  played.  The 
net  receipts  for  the  month  of  October  had  amounted  to  100,000 
francs  ;  the  increase  in  the  receipts  of  the  theatre  amounted  to 
from  Go  to  70,000  francs.  Though  a  large  portion  of  the  prof- 
its went  into  the  pockets  of  the  socictaives,  the  latter  were  not 
the  less  disposed  to  find  fault  with  the  management,  against 
Avhich  they  brought  the  charge  of  sacrificing  the  futui'e  pros- 
perity of  the  theatre  to  that  which  could  only  prove  a  mo- 
mentary fit  of  enthusiasm  on  the  part  of  the  public.  They 
urged — and  the  event  proved  they  were  right — that  Rachel 
would  soon  manifest  the  most  unbounded  pretensions ;  that 
she  was  only  enriching  them  for  the  present  to  ruin  them  aft- 
erward ;  that  the  precedent  would  prove  the  bane  of  the  man- 
agement. 

It  has  been  shown  that  Rachel  entered  the  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais  in  March,  1838,  at  a  salary  of  4000  francs  per  annum  for 
three  years,  and  that  the  management,  in  the  month  of  Oc- 
tober, very  liberally  agreed  to  cancel  this  contract,  and  renew 
it  at  a  salary  of  8000  francs  per  annum  up  to  April  1st,  1840. 
There  was  a  stipulated  forfeit  of  50,000  francs  in  case  of  non- 
fulfillment of  the  engagement,  and  the  actress  was  to  provide 
her  own  dresses.  The  management,  however,  presented  her 
with  three  of  the  most  expensive  of  her  costumes,  with  a  sum 
of  1000  francs  in  November,  and  another  similar  sum  in  De- 
cember. 

No  sooner  were  these  advantages  obtained  than  more  were 
demanded  by  the  rapacious  father  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel. 
"While  the  daughter  studied  her  splendid  Greek  and  Roman 
characters,  and  conveyed  to  worshiping  thousands  the  noblest 
sentiments  of  the  human  heart,  the  prudent  papa  studied  the 
labyrinthine  mazes  of  the  Code  Civil,  and,  becoming  learned  in 
the  law,  found  out  that  engagements  contracted  by  minors  are 
easily  annulled.     Both  father  and  daughter  came  to  the  satis- 


44  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

factory  conclusion  that  glory  was  a  marketable  commodity, 
only  to  be  valued  by  what  it  brought  in  ready  money. 

The  first  demand  for  his  daughter  was  an  increase  of  salary, 
raising  it  to  the  sum  received  by  a  Councilor  of  State — 12,000 
francs  per  annum.  In  1839,  in  addition  to  the  fixed  salary 
of  12,000  francs,  he  demanded  fi-om  300  to  500  francs  perqui- 
sites ifeux)  each  time  she  played,  according  as  the  receipts  of 
the  theatre  varied  from  4000  to  5000  francs  and  upward — the 
title  o{  sodctaire  with  a  full  share,  with  12,000  francs  from  the 
subvention,  and  four  months  conge  every  year :  the  whole  claim 
might  be  computed  at  the  moderate  sum  of  00,000  francs  per 
annum. 

The  management  was  thunderstruck.  It  was  currently  re- 
ported that  when  Rachel  went  to  take  her  customary  lesson 
of  Sanson,  her  teacher,  much  astonished  that  he  should  have 
had  the  polishing  of  so  high-priced  a  jewel,  inquired  if,  indeed, 
she  had  manifested  such  pretensions  as  rumor  had  brought  to 
his  ears.  To  this  Rachel  coolly  replied  that,  according  to  the 
Code  Civil,  she  was  at  liberty  to  cancel  her  engagements  and 
stipulate  for  better  terms.  Sanson  indignantly  exclaimed  that 
she  needed  no  lessons  of  him,  as  he  taught  declamation,  not 
chicanery,  and  that  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  associating  with 
those  who  sought  the  measure  of  their  honor  and  delicacy 
within  the  limits  of  the  Code  Civil.  "  Your  talent,"  added  the 
teacher,  dashing  to  the  ground  a  little  statuette  of  Rachel,  "  will 
be  shattered  and  annihilated  like  that  image."  He  concluded 
by  motioning  his  pupil  to  the  door  with  a  "  Sortez  /"  that  she 
might  have  copied  with  success  in  the  part  oOioxane. 

While  savans,  philosophers,  men  of  letters,  critics,  and  en- 
thusiastic crowds  of  youths  from  the  colleges  and  schools — 
the  rising  generation  that  constituted  the  hope  of  France — sat 
entranced,  listening  with  beating  hearts  and  glistening  eyes  to 
tho  grand  Alexandrines  of  Corneille  ;  watching  on  the  varying 
brow  of  the  actress  the  expression  of  the  passion  she  uttered, 
and  themselves  passing  from  pity  to  rage,  from  love  to  hatred, 
from  indignant  scorn  to  satiated  vengeance,  as  her  eloquent 
interpretation  bore  them  along — she,  the  pythoness  delivering 
the  oracles  of  the  god  of  light,  drew  her  inspiration  from  the 
golden  calf,  the  god  of  her  forefathers,  and  inwardly  computed 
the  metallic  value  of  enthusiasm. 


MEMOIUS    OF    KAGIIEL.  45 

A  portion  of  the  press,  siding  with  the  societaires,  loudly  ex- 
claimed against  these  rapacious  exactions.  Even  Jules  Janin 
repented  having  created  Rachel,  and  talked  of  demolishing  {aic) 
his  pen-work. 

It  was  too  late,  however ;  the  public  had  formed  an  opin- 
ion, and  was  resolved  to  stand  by  it.  In  the  heat  of  the  quar- 
rel, the  announcement  of  "  Bajazet"  gave  it  a  new  stimulus, 
and  afforded  an  opportunity  for  the  manifestation  of  the  an- 
tagonistic feelings  of  each  party.  On  the  night  of  Rachel's 
first  appearance  in  the  difficult  part  of  Itoxane,  October  23d, 
symptoms  of  hostility  were  evident  throughout  the  house,  and 
her  failure  was  confidently  predicted.  In  the  beginning  of 
her  career,  Rachel,  playing  from  intuition,  and  impelled  by  the 
irresistible  attraction  that  led  her  on  the  stage,  was  uncon- 
cerned and  fearless.  When,  however,  the  tide  of  success  had 
set  in,  by  what  may  appear  a  contradiction,  but  one  which  the 
analyzer  of  the  human  heart  will  readily  understand,  she  be- 
came exceedingly  timid  whenever  she  was  to  appear  in  a  new 
part.  She  had  now  tasted  the  intoxicating  joys  of  triumph, 
and  was  the  more  inclined  to  dread  a  defeat  that  might  wither 
her  laurels.  Thus  it  was  that  on  first  nights  she  was  never 
as  perfect  as  on  the  succeeding  ones  when  she  felt  sure  of  pub- 
lic support. 

With  these  feelings,  the  effect  produced  upon  her  by  the  icy 
coldness  with  Avhich  she  was  received  Avhen  she  appeared  on 
this  critical  occasion  may  be  readily  conceived.  The  very  Ro- 
mans paid  by  her  adversaries  sat  with  immovable  hands.  The 
stifled  laughter,  the  whisperings  in  the  boxes,  the  anxious  looks 
of  friends,  and  the  hostile  ones  of  foes,  all  contributed  to  shake 
her  courage  when  most  she  needed  it — in  that  stumbling-block 
of  genius — in  Roxane  !  Her  tongue  was  almost  paralyzed,  her 
breath  was  choked,  and  for  the  first  time  she  was  completely 
frightened. 

Envy  was  justified  and  triumphant ;  the  star  had  proved 
but  a  fleeting  meteor ;  she  could  play  but  such  parts  as  were 
drilled  into  her,  and  even  then  she  required  long  study ;  she 
was  but  an  automaton,  «S:c.,  &c.,  &c. 

But  though  on  the  first  night  the  woman  had  sunk  dismay- 
ed at  sight  of  the  imfricndly  brows,  on  the  second  the  artiste 


46  MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL. 

had  conquered  her  terrors,  and  again  taken  her  place  of  su- 
premacy with  the  dignified  assurance  of  conscious  genius. 
Abjuring  Olympus  and  its  pagan  divinities,  she  trod  with  firm 
step  the  volcanic  soil  of  the  harem,  and  with  admirable  entente 
presented  the  vivid  picture  of  the  struggle  between  love  and 
ambition.  She  gave  in  the  difficult  rule  of  the  absolute  sul- 
tana the  most  complete  personification  of  the  despotism,  the 
stern,  pitiless  politics  of  the  vast  empire  of  the  world  at  that 
period,  joined  to  the  most  truly  feminine  embodiment  of  love. 
With  Amurath  she  exhibited  the  remorseless,  unflinching  de- 
termination of  the  Eastern  male  despot ;  with  Bajazet,  the  gen- 
tle, yielding  affection  of  woman,  whatever  be  her  clime  ;  as  the 
duped  lover,  the  angry  passions  of  both  sexes. 

The  second  night  her  success  was  absolute ;  on  the  third 
there  was  a  riot  at  the  doors  to  obtain  admittance,  while  the 
scene  within  the  house  beggared  description.  Every  one  seem- 
ed possessed  by  a  frantic  admiration,  which  was  vented  in  a 
storm  of  applause.  The  ovation  thus  tributed  contrasted  with 
the  chill,  sulky  aspect  the  same  audience  presented  on  the  fore- 
going night. 

But,  though  envy  was  foiled,  it  was  not  disarmed.  The 
critics  caviled  at  her  peculiar  delivery  of  certain  passages, 
more  especially  that  of  the  famous  "  Sortezf  in  the  second 
act,  when  Roxane  offers  the  throne  to  Bajazet,  and  the  latter 
refuses  it,  alleging  specious  reasons  in  order  to  conceal  the  real 
one — his  love  for  Atalide.  While  Rachel  listened  to  his  an- 
swei',  the  rage  she  refrained  from  uttering  was  most  vividly 
depicted  on  the  expressive  countenance ;  when  he  had  ended, 
her  look  was  such  as  no  other  woman  could  assume  :  it  spoke 
not  so  much  the  fury  of  the  offended  woman,  loud,  stormy, 
tearing  passion  to  rags,  as  that  of  the  insulted  sovereign,  deep, 
concentrated,  implacable,  ferocious  in  its  very  calmness.  Ba- 
jazet had  evidently  scorned  the  love  of  a  tigress,  not  a  dove. 
With  extended  hand  she  motioned  him  to  the  door,  and  with 
her  harsh  voice  uttered  the  "  Sortcz  /"  that  brought  down  en- 
thusiastic applause  from  judges  of  refined  taste.  In  that  little 
word  the  sentence  was  signed,  the  dumb  executioner  summon- 
ed, the  death  knelled.  No  rant,  no  violent  gesture,  no  loud 
burst  of  passion  accompanied  it ;  the  utterance  was  calm  as 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  47 

tliat  of  a  god  delivering  the  fiat  of  fate — too  calm  in  its  grand 
eloquence  to  please  the  multitude. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  the  charge  that  she  had  no 
heart,  no  feminine  softness,  no  real  feeling,  was  brought  against 
Rachel.  "  Roxane,''  urged  the  critics,  "  is  a  woman  before  she 
is  a  sultana,  and,  as  a  woman  should  give  full  scope  to  anger 
and  jealousy,  she  should  throw  herself,  dagger  in  hand,  on  Ba- 
jazet,  yet  ere  she  strikes  be  disarmed  by  a  look ;  then,  and  as 
though  to  guard  against  her  own  weakness,  command  his  ab- 
sence with  the  '  Sortez  P  "  This  was  a  most  lame  and  impo- 
tent interpretation  of  the  heroine's  temper.  It  was  the  ex- 
pression of  feeling  of  a  commonplace  character,  not  that  of  an 
exceptional  being — not  that  of  the  proud  sultana,  whose  con- 
sciousness of  power  controls  and  guides  her  impetuous  nature 
— of  Roxane,  who  has  mutes  who  Idll  at  her  bidding.  Had 
Roxane  herself  touched  a  dagger,  it  would  have  been  to  strike 
at  once.  Still  criticism  would  not  be  gainsaid,  and  for  years 
the  obnoxious  rendering  of  the  ^'' Sortez  f  was  harped  upon 
and  discussed,  until,  weary  of  the  struggle,  Rachel  gave  up  her 
own  conception  of  the  part,  and  adopted  that  which  was  forced 
upon  her :  it  was  less  true  to  nature,  and  therefore  more  pleas- 
ing to  perverted  tastes. 

A  little  incident  took  place  at  this  time  which  is  worth  re- 
cording as  a  manifestation  of  liberal  feeling  but  too  rare  among 
artists.  Mademoiselle  Mars  was  still  on  the  stage,  though  the 
fickle  public,  faithless  to  its  former  idol,  frequently  reminded 
her  that  it  Avas  time  for  her  to  retire  from  before  the  foot- 
lights, whose  glare  revealed  but  too  plainly  the  ravages  of 
time.  Accustomed  to  the  splendid  galaxy  of  a  past  reign,  to 
a  Duchesnois,  a  Rancourt,  a  Georges,  playing  with  a  Talma 
to  the  enthusiastic  delight  of  an  audience  of  crowned  heads, 
JNIademoiselle  Mars,  herself,  perhaps,  the  most  brilliant  of  those 
stars,  was  rather  incredulous  with  regard  to  the  merits  of  the 
planet  then  in  the  ascendant ;  she  chose  to  judge  by  her  own 
eyes  and  ears  of  the  justice  of  the  plaudits  so  lavishly  bestow- 
ed. During  the  first  act — the  piece  was  "  Les  Horaces" — the 
ex-qucen  of  tragedy  listened  coldly ;  accustomed  to  the  style 
of  former  heroines,  she  pronounced  Camille  rather  loeak.  But 
at  the  fourth  act,  while  the  public  was  warmly  applauding, 


48  MEMOIRS    OF   KACHEL. 

some  of  the  flatterers  who  surrounded  Mademoiselle  Mars, 
thinking  to  soothe  feelings  which  they  imagined  must  be  hurt 
by  the  triumph  obtained  by  her  young  successor,  disdainfully 
echoed  the  rather  weak,  adding  such  derogatory  epithets  as 
milk  and  water,  lukewarm,  &c.,  &c. 

"  "Would  you  have  her  roar  like  a  bull?"  exclaimed  the  in- 
dignant Mars,  full  of  sympathetic  admiration. 

During  this  season  of  successive  triumphs  the  "  Bourgeois 
Gentilhomme"  was  revived.  In  this  comedy  there  is  a  scene 
in  which  all  the  j^c'sonel  of  the  company,  from  the  reigning 
favorite  down  to  the  candle-snufFer,  is  bound  to  appear  in  or- 
der to  make  up  the  show.  All  march  on  and  off  the  stage  in 
double  file,  and  the  public,  recognizing  its  favorites,  applauds 
each  more  or  less  warmly.  Mademoiselle  Mars,  not  being  able 
to  endure  the  fatigue  of  the  costume  required  (a  Turkish  one) 
for  the  ceremony  of  the  Mamamonchi,  wore  a  Louis  XVI. 
dress,  and  Mademoiselle  Eachel  the  Oriental  one  of  Roxane. 
The  public,  aware  that  the  latter  was  coming,  broke  out  at 
her  entrance  into  a  phrensy  of  applause  that  lasted  long  after 
her  disappearance.  When  the  curtain  fell,  the  declining  and 
the  rising  stars  were  both  clamorously  recalled.  Mademoiselle 
Mars  was  the  first  to  enter,  with  that  aristocratic  air,  that  2mr 
sang  look  that  would  have  been  deemed  haughty  had  it  not 
been  tempered  by  the  exceeding  grace  of  the  woman  and  fin- 
ished artiste.  She  acknowledged  the  loud  acclamations  of  the 
public  with  a  slight  and  gracious  rather  than  grateful  inclina- 
tion, and  a  look  of  conscious  desert,  as  though  she  would  have 
said,  "  I  thank  you,  good  friends,  for  myself  and  the  young 
thing  who  follows  me." 

She  felt  what  her  brow  expressed,  that  she  had  come  to  re- 
ceive a  tribute  due  to  her.  Rachel,  on  tlie  contrary,  allowing 
Mademoiselle  Mars  to  precede  her  a  few  paces,  thus  tacitly 
acknowledging  her  supremacy,  bowed  with  grateful  humility, 
as  though  thankful  for  a  gift.  This  difference  was  not  studied 
in  either  case ;  it  was  innate,  and  the  reason  may  be  found, 
perchance,  in  the  annals  of  the  two  races :  one  had  reached 
its  supremacy ;  it  was  the  part  of  the  other  to  bend  and  cringe 
to  every  oppressor. 

Apropos  of  this  procession,  it  was  subsequently  seen  that 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  49 

Kachel's  humility  did  not  make  her  forget  her  interests.  In 
the  agreement  made  with  the  Theatre  Fran^ais,  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  was  entitled  to  a  perquisite  of  500  francs  for  every 
time  she  chose  to  appear  more  than  twice  a  week.  She  took 
care,  therefore,  to  join  the  procession  in  "  Le  Bourgeois  Gen- 
tilhomme,"  on  every  occasion  claiming  the  500  francs  for  this 
mute  performance  of  a  few  minutes.  The  committee,  how- 
ever, deeming  this  too  expensive  a  walk  across  the  stage,  dis- 
puted the  payment.  From  that  time  the  trarjcdienne  declined 
appearing  in  the  show,  even  on  the  occasion  of  Moliere's  birth- 
day.    No  pay,  no  walk. 


CHAPTER  W. 

1839. 


A  Step  higher  in  private  Life. — The  Maimed  Student  and  a  Scene  in 
"Les  Horaces."  —  The  Friendship  of  the  Great. — L'Abbaye  aux 
Bois. — Madame  Recamier. — The  Jewish  Actress  and  a  Diguitaiy  of 
the  Church. — A  Stranger  to  Venus. — Rachel  in  Comedy. — "  Esther." 

The  prosperous  state  of  their  finances  now  enabled  the 
Felix  family  to  indulge  in  the  comforts,  if  not  the  luxuries  of 
life.  In  the  winter  of  1839,  the  mean  lodgings  they  had  hith- 
erto occupied  were  exchanged  for  better  ones  on  a  second  floor 
of  the  Passao-e  Verot  Dodat.  This  apartment  Rachel's  earn- 
ings enabled  them  to  furnish  respectably,  and  she  had  a  room 
to  herself  for  the  first  time.  The  chief  ornament  of  this  room, 
which  was  long,  lofty,  and  narrow,  consisted  in  the  trophies 
she  had  won.  To  the  three  curtain  poles  of  the  bed  were  hung 
three  garlands  decorated  with  ribbons,  bearing  devices  em- 
broidered in  gold  recording  her  success.  Other  similar  crowns 
were  hung  on  the  walls.  The  room  of  her  parents  was  next 
to  her  own,  and  Avas  furnished  in  a  manner  that  to  them  was 
quite  luxurious,  yet  they  took  possession  of  it  as  though  ac- 
customed to  it  all  their  life. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Rachel  introduced  into  the  role 
of  Camille  the  by-play  that  is  so  effective  in  the  second  scene 
of  the  fourth  act,  when  Valcre  is  describing  the  combat  of  the 
Horatii  and  the  Curiatii.     The  following  incident  suggested 

C 


50  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

the  improvement.  The  actress,  who  was  slightly  indisposed, 
had  remained  in  her  chamber  one  morning,  when  she  heard  a 
caller  in  the  salon.  Curious  to  know  who  it  was,  she  rose  and 
went  close  to  the  door,  through  which  she  distinctly  heard  the 
voice,  and  recognized  it  as  that  of  an  acquaintance  of  the  fam- 
ily, a  young  student  of  surgery.  In  answer  to  the  question 
put  by  her  mother  and  sisters  as  to  why  he  had  been  so  long 
absent,  he  told  a  fearful  story  of  some  accident,  while  dissect- 
ing, that  had  necessitated  the  amputation  of  his  hand.  Eachel, 
already  ill,  was  so  overcome  with  horror  at  this  description 
that  she  fainted.  The  noise  of  her  fall  brought  the  family  to 
her  "assistance,  and  she  soon  recovered.  It  was  then  the  idea 
occurred  to  her  that  if  she,  who  was  not  particularly  interest- 
ed in  this  young  man,  had  been  so  much  impressed  by  the  nar- 
rative of  his  accident,  how  terrible  must  be  the  shock  on  the 
nerves  of  one  who  hears  of  her  lover's  death.  She  remarked 
to  Sanson  that  when  she  next  played  Camille  she  would  intro- 
duce a  new  effeot.  She  did  so,  and  met  with  great  success. 
As  Valere  proceeded  in  his  speech,  Mademoiselle  Eachel  listen- 
ed with  the  greatest  expression  of  grief  and  horror  depicted  on 
her  countenance  and  in  her  attitude,  and  when  he  amved  at 
the  bloody  catastrophe  she  fell  senseless.  The  actor  who  play- 
ed Valere,  addressing  his  discourse  to  old  Horace,  does  not  see 
Camille.  Astonished  to  find  himself  interrupted  by  such  un- 
usual tokens  of  approbation,  he  fancied  he  must  be  particular- 
ly good  that  evening,  and,  excited  by  this  idea,  made  extraor- 
dinary efforts  to  deserve  such  plaudits,  throwing  a  vast  amount 
of  heat  and  passion  in  his  part,  to  which  no  one  was  listening, 
so  much  did  the  mute  acting  of  Camille  engross  attention. 

Success  seemed  to  pursue  this  fortunate  family  :  the  man- 
agement again  canceled  Eachel's  engagement,  and  renewed  it 
at  20,000  francs  per  annum.  It  became  the  fashion  to  re- 
ceive the  pet  of  the  public  in  private  circles,  and  invitations 
from  the  highest  quarters  and  rich  gifts  were  of  daily  occur- 
rence. Eachel  was  the  rage,  and  not  only  the  most  aristo- 
cratic French  salons,  but  also  the  most  distinguished  foreign 
residents,  made  a  point  of  adding  the  attraction  of  her  pres- 
ence to  their  fetes.  The  actress  was  the  fashionable  luxury 
of  the  day,  and  must  be  had  at  any  cost  of  money  or  of  pride. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEI-.  51 

Such  was  the  influence  of  vanity,  that  some  of  the  nohlcst 
children  of  once  proud  Spain — the  Duchess  of  Berwick  and 
Alba,  the  Marchioness  of  Alcanices,  the  Princess  of  Anglona, 
the  Countess  of  Toreno,  M.  de  Roca  de  Togares,  ex-minister 
of  Marine,  the  Marquis  de  los  Llanos,  the  Count  de  la  Vega 
del  Pozo,  &c.,  «&;c. — condescended  to  admit  the  daughter  of  the 
Jew  peddler  on  terms  of  momentary  equality.  The  high-born 
Novailles  received  her  in  their  morning  circles,  and  the  duke 
became  her  most  assiduous  adviser,  often  spending  whole  even- 
ings with  her.  Ministers  of  state  desired  her  to  appoint  the 
day  when  she  would  dine  with  them ;  Count  Duchatel,  min- 
ister of  the  interior,  presented  her  with  a  choice  library,  and 
Madame  Duchatel  was  extremely  fond  of  her  society. 

In  the  convent  of  the  Abbaye  aux  Bois  was  wont  to  assem- 
ble a  semi-mundane,  semi-mystic  circle,  composed  of  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  fragments  of  the  Restoration  and  of 
some  of  the  most  respected  ruins  of  the  Empire,  and  of  which 
Madame  de  Re'camier,  the  celebrated  ex-queen  of  beauty,  was 
the  cynosure.  This  lady,  who  had  survived  the  charms  that 
had  been  the  envy  of  her  contemporary,  Madame  de  Stael,  and 
the  wealth  that  had  given  them  I'elief,  still  preserved  the  ami- 
ability that  had  characterized  her  through  life,  and  which,  in 
her  declining  years,  brought  around  her  the  most  eminent  per- 
sonages of  the  day.  True  to  the  friendship  that  had  so  long 
existed  between  them,  M.  de  Chateaubriand  continued  to  visit 
her,  and  her  alone,  even  after  he  had  lost  the  use  of  his  limbs. 
His  faithful  valet,  Louis,  supported  him  up  the  stairs,  seated 
him  in  his  arm-chair,  and  installed  him  in  his  favorite  corner. 
Into  this  refined  and  fastidious  circle  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
was  freely  admitted,  and  it  must  be  owned  that  her  modest  de- 
meanor and  pei'fect  tact  proved  her  not  unworthy  of  the  hon- 
or. It  has  been  said  that  the  hope  of  converting  the  popu- 
lar idol  of  the  day  contributed  materially  to  the  cordiality  of 
her  reception.  If  so,  no  fault  can  be  found  with  the  feeling  ; 
the  public  baptism  in  Notre  Dame  of  the  wonderful  actress 
would  have  been  for  the  Church  no  mean  triumph,  and  it  is 
probable  no  eiforts  were  spared  by  these  faithful  votaries  to 
bring  about  such  a  result. 

But,  though  "Hermione"  was  possessed  of  the  eminently 


52  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL, 

Jewish  faculty  of  apparently  conforming  to  the  wishes  of  those 
whom  it  was  her  interest  to  please,  she  had,  then  at  least,  not 
the  slightest  idea  of  becoming  a  convert.  Under  the  inspira- 
tion of  her  illustrious  hosts,  she  studied  the  part  of  Paulim  in 
"Polyeucte;"  but,  though  she  uttered  before  them  the  "Je 
crois''  in  accents  that  inspired  the  most  sanguine  hopes,  she 
left  the  ccEnaculum  of  the  Rue  de  Sevres  as  much  of  a  Jew- 
ess as  she  had  entered  it. 

At  one  of  the  morning  literary  reunions  at  the  Abbaye  aux 
Bois,  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  reciting  to  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand, at  the  request  of  Madame  Recamier,  passages  from  the 
role  of  "  Pauline ;"  the  actress  was  on  the  point  of  uttering 
the  lines, 

"  Mon  epoux,  en  mourant,  m'a  laisse  ses  lumieres ; 
Son  sang  dont  ses  bourreaux  viennent  de  me  courrir, 
M'a  dessille  les  yeux  et  me  les  vient  d'ouvrir 

Je  VOIS,  JE  SAIS,  JE  CROIS  I" 

when  the  recitation  was  interrupted  by  the  unexpected  visit 
of  the  Archbishop  of . 

"Monseigneur,"  said  Madame  de  Recamier,  with  some  slight 
embarrassment,  "  permit  me  to  present  to  your  grace  Made- 
moiselle Rachel,  who  is  so  obliging  as  to  give  us  a  scene  from 
'  Polyeucte.' " 

"  I  would  infinitely  regret,"  replied  the  visitor,  "  having  in- 
terrupted the  finest  vei'ses  of  Corneille ;  I  hope  I  may  be  fa- 
vored also." 

No  scruples  prevented  Rachel  from  continuing  the  part  of 
Pauline.  She  had  no  hesitation  in  exclaiming  with  the  con- 
vert to  Christianity,  I  sec,  I  know,  I  believe,  before  a  high  digni- 
tary of  the  Church. 

When  she  had  concluded,  the  archbishop  was  most  earnest 
in  his  praise. 

"AYe,  the  ministers  of  the  Most  High,"  added  he,  "have 
not  often  the  pleasure  of  seeing  and  hearing  great  artistes ; 
but  I  have  been  thus  fortunate  twice  in  my  life:  in  Florence 
I  have  heard  Madame  Malibran  sing  in  a  salon,  and  to  Mad- 
ame Recamier  I  am  indebted  for  the  privilege  of  hearing 
Mademoiselle  Rachel.  The  lips  that  so  eloquently  utter  those 
magnificent  lines  must  be  inspired  by  a  heart  filled  with  the 
sentiment  they  express." 


MEMOIRS   OP   RACHEL.  53 

To  this,  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  bowing  gracefully,  replied, 
"  Monseigneur,  /  believed 

Apropos  of  these  recitationa  at  the  Abbaye  aux  Bois,  Mad- 
ame Delphine  Gay,  the  celebrated  mother  of  as  celebrated  a 
daughter,  is  reported  to  have  given  way  to  an  amusing  out- 
burst of  indignation.  Returning  one  morning  from  a  visit  to 
the  convent,  she  threw  herself  in  an  arm-chair,  exclaiming, 

"Can  any  one  imagine  so  absurd  a  thing?  Just  fancy  a 
parcel  of  rusty  old  academicians  teaching  Rachel  to  act  Plie- 
dre!     Brifault,  the  greatest  stranger  to  Venus,  uttering 

'C'est  Venus  toute  entiere  a  sa  proie  attachee  I' 
What  can  he  know  of  the  feelings  of  the  victim  of  the  goddess 
of  love  and  beauty  ?" 

It  has  been  said  that  Rachel  is  never  so  happy  as  when  she 
can  act  in  coraedy,and  especially  the  soubrettes  of  Moliere — 
parts  utterly  unsuited  to  her,  and  in  which,  however  accurate 
her  conception  of  the  character,  her  hollow,  cavernous  voice, 
her  tragic  gait,  gesture,  and  look,  render  her  unendurable,  not 
to  say  absurd.  In  certain  dramatic  roles  she  has  been  greatly 
applauded ;  for  instance,  in  that  of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  in 
which  she  appeared  to  advantage ;  but  it  was  certainly  more 
as  a  pretty  woman  than  as  a  finished  artiste  that  she  won  ad- 
miration. The  success  she  obtained  in  Adrienne  induced  her 
to  extend  .her  incursions  still  farther  into  the  domain  of  Made- 
moiselle Mars  :  she  played  in  succession  Louise  de  Lignerolles, 
Mademoiselle  de  Belle  Isle,  Madame  Tartuffe,  and  other  roles  of 
the  modern  drama,  in  all  of  which  her  voice  prevented  her 
from  attaining  to  that  degree  of  excellence  to  which  her  act- 
ing would  have  raised  her. 

As  to  the  soubrettes  of  Moliere,  she  undertook  them  on  the 
following  occasions : 

In  1844,  the  theatre  of  the  Odeon,  having  had  a  constant 
run  of  ill  luck,  was  closed ;  but  as  the  public  of  that  quarter 
of  Paris  required  a  theatre,  the  authorities  decided  that  the 
management  of  the  The'atre  Fran^ais  should  provide  for  both 
theatres,  one  company  doing  duty  alternately  in  both  houses. 
Rachel  was  obliged  to  take  her  share  in  this  work.  The  plan 
was  soon  found  to  entail  too  great  fatigue  on  the  performers 
on  account  of  the  distance  between  the  theatres,  and  was  very 
soon  given  up. 


54  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL. 

It  was  during  this  period  of  double  duty  that  Raphael  and 
Rebecca  Felix  were  bi'ought  out,  the  insatiate  father  exacting, 
without  the  shadow  of  a  pretense,  that  at  the  very  debut  of 
these  children,  who  had  never  set  foot  on  the  stage,  a  benefit 
should  be  granted  to  them.  This  unprecedented  demand  was 
conceded,  much  to  the  displeasure  of  other  members  of  the 
company,  who  saw  these  young  Jews  thus  unjustly  enjoying 
privileges  that  time  and  merit  alone  obtained  for  others.  In 
order  to  draw  a  crowded  house  on  the  benefit  night,  a  tragedy 
was  announced,  after  which,  to  increase  the  attraction,  Rachel 
was  to  appear  in  the  part  of  Dorine  in  "  Tartuffe."  The  pub- 
lic, curious  to  see  the  great  tragic  actress  in  two  such  opposite 
characters,  completely  filled  the  house.  The  rumor  that  she 
excelled  in  the  role  of  a  so%ibrette  had  been  industriously  circu- 
lated ;  the  disappointment  was  in  proportion  to  the  expecta- 
tions that  had  been  raised.  Rachel  was  too  much  a  favorite 
in  her  own  line  to  meet  with  very  open  marks  of  disapproba- 
tion in  attempting  another ;  but  that  the  attempt  was  not  a 
complete  failure  was  solely  due  to  the  courteous  indulgence 
of  the  audience.  The  language  of  the  saucy,  pert  little  Do- 
rine,  uttered  in  the  deep,  sepulchral  tones  of  a  Camille  calling 
down  the  wrath  of  heaven  on  the  capital  of  the  world,  the 
tragic  stride  and  gesture,  constituted  a  combination  of  the 
sublime  and  the  grotesque  that  sorely  tried  the  patience  of  the 
spectators. 

Four  years  later,  on  the  first  of  July,  in  another  extra  per- 
formance on  the  occasion  of  another  benefit  of  Raphael  and 
Rebecca,  the  play  being  "  Phedre,"  followed  by  a  little  piece 
in  one  act  by  Marivaux,  the  play-bills  announced  that  the 
evening  would  close  with  "  Le  Depit  Amoureux,"  in  which 
Rachel  would  take  the  part  of  Marinette.  Once  again  the  im- 
patience of  the  public  was  extreme  to  see  how  this  genius 
which  had  reached  its  apogee  would  stand  the  test  in  so  varied 
a  range.  This  time  the  failure  was  complete  and  the  dissat- 
isfaction undissembled.  When  she  entered  in  soubrette  cos- 
tume the  applause  was  perfectly  frantic,  but  she  no  sooner 
spoke  than  it  was  apparent  how  much  she  was  out  of  place  in 
the  part,  and  an  icy  silence  testified  the  chagrin  of  the  audience. 

On  these  two  occasions  only  did  Rachel  ever  act  the  sou- 


MEMOIRS    OK    RACHEI-  55 

brettes,  and  then  to  further  the  interests  of  her  relatives,  and 
gratify  a  passing  caprice  rather  than  from  any  vocation. 

The  only  rofe  added  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel  to  her  repei'- 
toire  during  tho  year  1839  was  that  o^  Esther.  To  understand 
in  what  points  she  failed  in  her  conception  of  this  character, 
we  must  call  to  mind  what  the  poet  intended  to  delineate 
when  he  wrote  the  part.  The  female  characters  of  Eacine 
are  exquisite  creations.  Take  them  all,  from  Esther  to  Bere- 
nice, from  Phcdre  to  Hermione,  not  one  but  is  gifted  with  the 
melting  tenderness  that  captivates,  or  with  the  resistless  stormy 
passion  that  overwhelms.  In  his  male  characters  he  has  not 
been  equally  successful ;  with  the  exception  of  the  vehement 
Orestes  and  the  iron-willed  Nero,  his  heroes  are  rather  weak- 
brained,  and  seem  cut  out  for  henpecked  husbands.  In  this 
Racine  differs  essentially  from  Corneille,  whose  male  charac- 
ters are  splendid  specimens  of  chivalrous  love  and  valor,  while 
his  heroines,  with  the  exception  of  the  noble,  the  lovely  Chi- 
mhie,  are  raw-boned  viragoes. 

One  of  Racine's  most  constant  opponents  says  that  the  fe- 
male characters  of  Racine  constitute  a  wonderful  seraglio, 
where  the  poet  has  assembled  all  the  glowing  visions  of  his 
fancy,  all  the  earnest  passions  of  his  soul,  clothed  in  celestial 
forms.  He  has  divided  them  into  two  distinct  groups,  both 
equally  bewitching.  On  one  side  we  have  Aricie,  Andromaque, 
Iphigcnie,  Berenice,  Atalide,  Esther,  and  Jimie,  the  women  who 
love  and  who  die ;  on  the  other,  Hcrmione,  Phcdre,  Eoxaue, 
Emilie,  the  women  who  love  and  who  kill ;  here  the  dove, 
there  the  lioness.  Of  these  two  natures,  so  diametrically  op- 
posite in  feeling  and  expression,  though  actuated  by  the  same 
passion,  one  was  altogether  foreign  to  that  of  Mademoiselle 
Rachel,  and  therefore  beyond  her  power  of  delineation.  In 
one  of  those  rare,  angelic  characters,  all  feminine  gentleness, 
mildness,  and  abnegation,  in  which,  however,  passion,  veiled 
under  the  semblance  of  silent  resignation  and  patient  grief,  is 
not  the  less  strong,  resolute,  and  enduring,  the  great  actress 
is  completely  out  of  her  sphere.  Her  voice  has  the  hard, 
metallic  tone  of  a  trumpet ;  it  is  never  choked  by  unshed 
tears,  or  softened  by  suppressed  emotion.  There  is  nothing 
that  betrays  the  inwai'd  wound,  the  fire  that  consumes  slowly, 


56  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

but  surely,  without  outward  flame.  She  approaches  her  lover 
with  calm  brow,  unmoistened  eye,  unfaltering  voice,  and  res- 
olute pace.  Nothing  betokens  the  shrinking  timidity,  the 
bashful  fear,  that  possess  so  powerful  a  charnj.  She  crosses 
the  stage  with  dignified  assurance,  her  voice  preserving  its 
steady,  ironical  tone  amid  the  most  stormy  conflicts  of  un- 
chained, raging  passions.  • 

All  the  foregoing  objections  apply  most  especially  to  the 
role  of  Edher.  The  ethereal  and  mystic  beauty  whose  magic 
glance  sufiices  to  tame  the  Assyrian  is  a  young,  gentle,  pious 
creature,  left  in  a  foreign  land  at  the  mercy  of  a  conqueror, 
and  thrown  in  a  harem  where  she  is  surrounded  by  heathen 
women  who  have  lost  all  innate  modesty,  and  to  whom  re- 
ligion has  never  taught  remorse.  Esther,  the  slave,  the  con- 
cubine, is  freed  by  grace  and  legalized  by  love.  Personified 
by  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  the  lovely  ideal  of  Eacine  disap- 
pears ;  the  witching  dream  is  dispelled  ;  the  houri  of  the  Asi- 
atic harem  is  far  from  gentle,  the  slave  is  threatening,  the 
concubine  cold,  the  maiden  imperious.  Even  the  gi-aceful 
piety  of  Esther  is  lost,  for  no  heaven-inspired  faith  breathes  in 
the  measured  accents  of  the  daughter  of  Israel,  speaking  of 
her  own  God,  the  dread  God  of  the  Jews.  In  lieu  of  the 
almost  divine  creature,  more  visible  to  the  mystic  sense  than 
to  the  eye — in  lieu  of  this  celestial  vision,  whose  features  re- 
flect all  tlie  noble  gifts  that  have  their  source  in  her  clear, 
unsullied  soul,  this  maiden,  chosen  among  a  thousand,  not  for 
a  beauty  that  others  may  possess  in  like  perfection,  but  for 
that  nameless  charm  that  gives  to  its  possessor  the  empire  of 
the  world,  there  was  a  talented  woman,  uttering  with  correct 
precision  the  poetic  lines,  but  never  personifying  the  idea. 
Her  qualities  here  are  all  negative ;  sBe  never  rants,  it  is  true, 
but  neither  does  she  feel  acutely ;  she  is  never  carried  away 
by  violent  passion,  but  neither  has  she  any  warmth  of  expres- 
sion ;  she  does  not  sob  aloud,  but  she  has  no  tears. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  57 


CHAPTER  VII. 

1840. 

Artistic  Career. — First  Period  one  of  constant  Struggle  and  arduous 
Toil. — Eminent  Critics  of  the  Day. — Granier  de  Cassagnac. — Jules 
Janin. — Thcophile  Gauthier. — Edouard  Thierry. — The  Public  be- 
comes exacting. — Incident  at  a  Soiree. — Rachel  at  Eighteen. — Tax- 
ed with  want  of  real  Feeling. — Tact. — Manners. — Delicate  Health. 
— Solicitude  of  the  Public. 

The  initiatory  steps  in  life  of  the  actress,  the  narrative  of 
the  more  or  less  extraordinary  circumstances  that  have  with- 
draAvn  her  from  the  crowd  and  placed  her  at  the  entrance  of 
the  road  to  fame,  the  vicissitudes  of  the  family  circle,  these 
are  but  secondary  elements  in  her  biography.  Incidents  of 
private  life  may  amuse  the  reader,  but  what  he  seeks  more 
especially  in  the  life  of  an  eminent  actress  is  a  page  of  the 
history  of  dramatic  art  in  her  time  and  in  the  country  in 
which  she  won  her  laurels.  Her  stage  career,  therefore,  con- 
stitutes the  most  important  part  of  her  biography. 

The  years  1838  and  1839  had  witnessed  the  astonishing 
debuts  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  It  now  remained  that  she 
should  consolidate  her  position,  and  justify  a  permanent  pos- 
session of  the  sceptre  she  had  seized.  This  could  only  be  done 
by  severe  study;  it  was  requisite  that  she  should  not  only 
perfect  the  parts  she  had  acted  at  her  several  debuts,  but  that 
she  should  add  others  to  her  repertoire,  and  create  new  i-bles 
in  new  plays.  The  more  indulgent  the  public  shows  itself  to 
inexperienced  but  real  talent,  the  more  it  is  likely  to  exact 
from  that  talent  in  its  maturity.  This  is  the  reason  why  the 
majority  of  those  who  have  been  cried  up  as  phenomena  in 
their  youth,  in  after  years  sink  into  insignificance  and  oblivion. 

This  era  constitutes,  then,  the  real  artistic  career  of  Mad- 
emoiselle Rachel.  Beginning  with  the  year  1840,  it  closed 
ynth  the  American  excursion,  undertaken  July  30,  1856,  and 
terminated  January,  1857. 

The  dramatic  year  is  divided  into  two  very  distinct  por- 

C2 


58  MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL. 

tions,  during  one  of  which  the  time  and  services  of  the  actor 
pei'tain  exclusively  to  the  theatre  at  which  he  is  permanently 
engaged ;  during  the  other,  which  is  that  of  his  conges,  he 
makes  his  provincial  or  foreign  tour. 

According  to  the  terms  of  her  engagement,  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  had  a  conge  of  three  months  in  the  year,  June,  July, 
and  August ;  the  remaining  nine  months  were  to  be  devoted 
exclusively  to  the  Theatre  Francjais.  In  these  nine  months 
are  to  be  sought  the  difficulties  she  overcame  in  her  profes- 
sion, the  new  roles  she  played  in  known  plays,  and  those  she 
created  in  new  ones ;  in  a  word,  her  artistic  labors. 

To  the  careful  record  of  whatsoever  worthy  of  note  occur- 
red in  these  sixteen  years,  there  has  been  added  in  the  follow- 
ing pages  a  critical  analysis,  or,  at  least,  a  more  or  less  de- 
tailed sketch  of  the  plays  in  which  she  appeared,  and  particu- 
larly of  the  characters  she  played. 

The  opinions  of  the  eminent  critics  of  the  day  have  been 
given  as  being  of  no  little  importance  in  a  work  of  this  kind, 
particularly  when  we  find  the  opinions  of  the  public  repre- 
sented by  men  such  as  Granier  de  Cassagnac,  Theophile  Gau- 
thier,  and  Jules  Janin,  the  setters  up  and  destroyers  of  theat- 
rical idols. 

Monsieur  Granier  de  Cassagnac,  whose  literary  articles  then 
appeared  in  "  La  Presse,"  but  who  was  subsequently  appoint- 
ed depute,  and  distinguished  himself  by  his  energetic  and  elo- 
quent political  articles  in  the  "  Constitutionnel"  in  1848,  and 
by  his  strenuous  adhesion  to  the  emperor,  was  in  1840  bound 
by  ties  of  friendship  and  fellowship  to  the  disciples  of  the  mod- 
ern school.  In  point  of  fact,  he  was  a  classicist,  especially 
with  regard  to  Corneille,  for  whom  he  found  no  praise  suffi- 
cient. This  predilection  might  have  been  the  result  of  the 
affinity  that  his  own  stern,  uncompromising  character  pre- 
sented in  some  respects  with  that  of  the  great  father  of  French 
tragedy.  As  for  Racine,  he  treated  him  as  cavalierly  and  un- 
ceremoniously as  did  the  partisans  of  the  romantic  school. 

Jules  Janin,  the  feuilletonist  of  the  "  Debats,"  was  also  a 
champion  of  the  classical  school,  notwithstanding  which  he 
attacked  it  unscrupulously  whenever  it  suited  his  fitful  moods. 
Jules  Janin  is  one  of  those  capricious  geniuses  Avho,  when  a 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACriEr.  59 

word  presents  itself  on  which  an  article  may  be  spun  out,  no 
matter  how  paradoxical  or  antagonistic  to  their  former  judg- 
ments, never  hesitate  to  present  that  article  to  the  astonished 
public.  Thus  he  frequently  spares  his  friends  as  little  as  his 
opponents,  lashing  the  first  and  praising  the  latter  with  equal 
injustice  and  equal  eloquence,  or,  at  any  rate,  with  that  tor- 
rent of  high-sounding  words  and  intricate  phrases  that  is  too 
often  taken  as  the  current  coin  of  eloquence.  Yet,  though  he 
thus  permits  too  exuberant  a  fancy  and  a  too  ready  pen  to  run 
on  somewhat  at  random  sometimes,  Jules  Janin  is  at  others 
one  of  the  most  truly  eloquent,  most  fascinating,  most  moving 
of  writers.  He  possesses,  too,  sterling  qualities  of  the  heart, 
not  always  found  in  the  feuilletonist.  Jules  Janin  has  been 
invariably  the  apologist  of  the  fallen,  the  respectful  and  gen- 
erous advocate  of  the  absent ;  he  has  been  ever  more  ready  to 
present  his  homage  to  royalty  in  exiles  than  to  royalty  on  the 
throne,  and  that,  too,  in  revolutionary  days,  when  such  con- 
duct was  not  only  noble,  but  courageous. 

Thcophile  Gauthicr,  also  of  "  La  Presse,"  was  the  zealous 
organ  of  the  school  of  Victor  Hugo  and  Co.  ;  but,  though  he 
attacked  the  classic  authors,  he  was  just  to  their  interpreters, 
weighing  with  impartiality  their  artistic  merits  and  demerits. 
Theophile  Gauthicr  had  commenced  life  as  an  amateur  paint- 
er, but,  finding  that  he  was  not  destined  in  that  vocation  ever 
to  pass  the  limits  of  mediocrity,  he  exchanged  the  brush  for 
the  pen,  and  soon  justified  his  new  choice.  Some  vestiges  of 
the  first  taste  are  perceivable  in  the  critical  analyses  of  the 
feuilletonist ;  the  painter's  ajc.  for  the  correctness  of  details  and 
the  picturesque  of  the  ensemble  adds  much  interest  to  the  elo- 
quence of'his  descriptions.  No  other  critic  conveyed  so  live- 
ly, so  faithful  an  impression  of  Rachel.  He  paints  admirably, 
and  with  more  minuteness  than  any  other  writer,  the  eifects 
she  produced,  her  peculiar  points  ;  every  little  detail  that  can 
give  an  idea  of  her  person,  even  to  the  most  minute  particu- 
lars of  her  toilette,  are  graphically  reproduced,  yet  none  seem 
trivial  or  out  of  place.  His  pen  photographs  the  actress  in 
all  her  roles.  M.  Gauthicr  is  at  the  present  day  the  dramatic 
feuilletonist  of  the  "Moniteur."  Edouard  Thierry  must  not 
pass  unnoticed  among  the  eminent  writers  who  wielded  the 


60  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

delicate  pi'uning-knife  of  criticism.  Of  all  those  whose  judg- 
ment and  opinions  on  Rachel  passed  current  with  the  public, 
he  was  perhaps  the  most  conscientious,  exact,  and  impartial. 
M.  Thierry  writes  at  present  in  the  partie  litterah-e  of  the 
"  Moniteur." 

So  far  fortune  had  seemed  to  forget  her  usual  fickleness  in 
favor  of  her  privileged  child.  Prosperity  had  constantly  ex- 
panded her  sails :  the  flowing  tide  of  success  had  known  no 
check.  "With  the  year  1840  there  came  a  sudden  reaction  ;  the 
hot  enthusiasm  that  had  bubbled  up  to  such  a  mad  pitch,  cooled 
off,  and  descended  to  a  degree  of  lukewarmness  and  indifler- 
ence  very  alarming  to  the  prospects  of  its  object.  The  symp- 
toms of  this  distressing  state  of  things  were  plainly  manifest- 
ed on  the  night  of  the  benefit  of  Mademoiselle  Mai-s,  on  which 
occasion  Mademoiselle  Rachel  played  in  "  Andromaque." 

The  very  critics  that  had  hitherto  been  so  loud  in  her  praise 
were  as  ready  to  cavil  and  condemn,  and  Jules  Janin  himself, 
in  his  attempt  to  vindicate  the  inconstancy  of  her  quondam 
admirers,  is  compelled  to  lay  the  blame  on  the  insatiate  desire 
for  something  new  that  is  the  ruling  passion  of  the  public. 
The  idol  had  not  changed :  therein  consisted  her  fault ;  the 
change  was  in  her  audience,  that  knew  her  by  heart.  She  had 
played  her  rqjei-toire  over  and  over  again,  until  it  had  palled 
upon  the  satiated  ears  of  her  hearers,  who  could  tell  beforehand 
every  gesture,  intonation,  and  look.  Every  expression  of  love, 
every  outcry  of  grief,  every  storm  of  passion,  every  shade  of 
irony  and  glance  of  haughty  pride,  every  well-prepared  effect, 
was  stereotyped.  The  audience  knew  all  the  strong  and  all 
the  weak  points,  where  to  be  attentive  and  where  to  be  care- 
less, where  to  applaud  and  where  to  be  indifferent.  •  The  very 
perfection  that  had  formerly  elicited  such  raptures  now  became 
intolerably  same ;  for,  however  admirable  the  acting,  it  failed 
to  interest,  inasmuch  as  it  no  longer  astonished ;  it  raised  no 
expectations,  it  elicited  no  curiosity.  Unequal,  and  therefore 
inferior  acting,  where  the  unforeseen  excludes  monotony,  would 
have  been  preferred  to  this  unvaried  correctness.  The  audi- 
ence had  come  with  the  best  intentions  of  beins;  entertained. 
They  had  counted  upon  a  certain  amount  of  sensation  ;  they 
had  stipulated  for  emotions  of  grief,  terror,  pity,  and  delight : 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  61 

they  found  themselves  listening  coldly  to  the  finest  passages, 
insensible  to  the  most  telling  points,  and  wearied  with  the 
length  of  the  play  ! 

But  we  will  take  Jules  Janin's  own  words  : 

"  All  the  talent  in  the  -world,  especially  Avhen  continually 
applied  to  the  same  dramatic  works,  will  not  satisfy  continu- 
ally the  hearer What  pleases  in  a  great  actor,  as  in 

all  arts  that  appeal  to  the  imagination,  is  the  unforeseen. 
When  I  am  utterly  ignorant  of  what  is  to  happen,  when  I  do 
not  know,  when  you  yourself  do  not  know  what  will  be  your 
next  gesture,  your  look,  what  passion  will  possess  your  heart, 
what  outcry  will  burst  from  your  terror-stricken  soul,  then, 
indeed,  I  am  willing  to  see  you  daily,  for  each  day  you  will  be 
new  to  me ;  to-day  I  may  blame,  to-morrow  praise ;  yester- 
day you  were  all  powerful,  to-morrow,  perhaps,  you  may 
hardly  win  from  me  a  word  of  admiration ;  so  much  the  bet- 
ter, then,  if  you  draw  from  me  unexpected  tears ;  if  in  my 
heart  you  strike  an  unknown  fibre  ;  but  tell  me  not  of  hear- 
ing night  after  night  great  artists  who  every  time  present  the 
exact  counterpart  of  what  they  Avere  the  preceding  one." 

Critics  were  unanimous  in  exacting  that  Kachel  should 
study  new  roles,  saying  that  it  was  the  only  way  to  renew  this 
young  talent,  so  full  of  sap  and  vigor,  in  lieu  of  allowing  it  to 
languish  and  gi'ow  stale  in  two  or  three  invariably  recurring 
parts,  thus  condemning  to  motionless  inactivity  this  powerful 
intelligen(*e. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel,  on  her  side,  having  accustomed  herself 
to  draw  the  greater  part  of  her  strength  from  the  constant 
support  of  the  public,  at  the  sight  of  the  coldness  and  indiffer- 
ence with  which  her  former  enthusiastic  patrons  now  greeted 
her,  was  herself  chilled  and  paralyzed ;  she  stopped  short  at 
the  aspect  of  the  unimpressed,  unmoved  galleries.  The  ap- 
plause of  her  audience  had  become  indispensable  to  her ;  the 
moment  it  was  lacking  she  became  powerless.  She  could  not 
endure  this  ill-boding  silence ;  she  imagined  her  gesture,  her 
look,  her  voice,  would  instantly  break  the  spell ;  failing  in  this, 
she  became  confused ;  she  forgot  the  character  she  represent- 
ed, and,  to  win  back  the  stimulus  she  lacked,  rushed  headlong 
into  all  the  extremes  and  exaggerations  of  dramatic  art ;  where 


62  MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL. 

she  was  wont  to  show  irritation,  she  became  furious ;  where 
she  was  wont  to  be  proud  and  dignified,  she  was  pompous ; 
her  irony,  usually  her  most  powerful  weapon,  assumed  a  sharp, 
strange  tone,  and  marred  the  intended  effect. 

Thus  the  habit  of  praise  without  limits,  and  admiration 
without  counterpoise,  had  borne  bitter  fruits.  The  most  pas- 
sionate of  her  adherents  gave  vent  to  scolding  fits,  crying  out 
that  the  plaything  was  stale.  And  this  is  one  of  the  terrible 
but  inevitable  phases  of  every  artist's  life. 

There  was  undoubtedly  some  relaxation  of  exertion  on  the 
part  of  the  actress,  who  did  not  sufficiently  bear  in  mind  that 
in  public  as  in  private  life  it  is  easier  to  win  favor  than  to  re- 
tain it.  But  there  was  also  great  and  manifest  injustice  on 
the  part  of  the  public  in  requiring  from  this  girl  of  eighteen, 
with  only  two  years'  stage  practice,  the  qualities  of  a  consum- 
mate actress  whose  talent  had  reached  its  maturity,  to  whom 
years  and  long  familiarity  with  the  boards  have  given  experi- 
ence, and  whose  countenance,  losing  all  individuality,  has  be- 
come a  plastic  mask,  reproducing  at  will  every  emotion,  every 
contradictory  passion.  To  have  obtained  such  unqualified  ap- 
plause as  had  been  awarded  to  her  in  the  characters  of  Her- 
mione,  of  Camille,  of  Eriphile,  of  lioxane,  by  the  veteran  play- 
goers who  remembered  Mademoiselle  Duchesnois,  Mademoiselle 
Mars,  and  Mademoiselle  Georges  in  their  prime ;  to  have  act- 
ed with  unquestionable  talent,  if  not  to  perfection,  Amenaicle, 
Momme,  and  Esther,  might  surely  have  been  deemed  sufficient 
in  this  young  genius. 

Nor  was  the  creation  of  new  roles  the  only  demand  of  the 
exacting  public.  Qualities  completely  foreign  to  her  nature 
and  the  opposites  of  those  she  possessed  were  clamorously  call- 
ed for  by  the  critics,  even  by  her  warmest  partisans.  No  one 
seemed  to  concede  that  she  to  whom  nature  had  granted  the 
facility  of  excelling  in  the  delineations  of  bitter  irony,  indig- 
nant rage,  vindictive  hatred,  and  furious  jealousy,  could  not  as 
readily  portray  excessive  tenderness,  melting  grief,  all  the  mild 
and  gentle  passions,  with  the  infinite  and  delicately  defined 
shades  that  lend  them  so  great  a  charm  and  insure  them  so 
powerful  a  hold  on  the  human  heart. 

Another  reason  for  the  coldness  of  a  portion  of  the  public 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEU  63 

may  be  found  in  the  disgust  the  sordid,  grasping  temper  of  old 
Felix  had  excited.  The  dissensions  between  the  management 
and  the  exacting  Jew  had  engendered  a  bitterness  of  which 
the  daughter  was  made  to  feel  the  effects.  Though  it  may  be 
urged  that  as  a  minor  she  was  not  to  blame  for  the  venality 
of  her  parents,  after  years  proved  that  when  free  to  follow  the 
dictates  of  her  own  will  she  was  no  degenerate  daughter  of 
Israel,  and  quite  as  ready  as  her  fair  ancestress  and  prototype 
to  possess  herself  of  the  gods  of  silver  and  of  gold  at  the  ex- 
pense of  honesty  and  justice. 

Notwithstanding  the  urgings  of  her  partisans  and  the  clam- 
orous complaints  of  the  press,  the  actress  followed  the  judicious 
advice  of  the  enlightened  guide  she  had  chosen.  She  wisely 
abstained  from  undertaking  the  creation  of  i^ew  roles.  To  give 
life  to  the  idea  of  an  author,  to  open  a  path  on  ground  where 
no  foot  had  preceded  hers,  to  venture  on  the  unknown  with- 
out the  guide  of  traditional  success  and  failures  to  teach  her 
what  to  follow  and  what  to  avoid  was,  for  one  so  completely 
illiterate,  to  rush  into  perils  from  Avhich  no  exertions  of  her 
untutored  genius  could  extricate  her.  The  task  required  deep 
study  of  the  character,  thorough  knowledge  of  the  history,  na- 
tion, habit.s,  manners,  public  and  private  life,  even  of  the  ex- 
pression of  countenance  and  external  appearance  of  the  per- 
sonage to  be  represented.  Mademoiselle  Rachel  contented  her- 
self with  adding  several  revivals  to  her  repertoire  during  this  and 
the  two  succeeding  years,  and  it  was  not  until  the  year  1843 
that  she  ventured  to  create  a  ro/e,  when  study  had  better, 
though  even  then  not  sufficiently,  fitted  her  for  the  effort. 

Mademoiselle  Kachel  was  at  this  time  eighteen  years  of 
age,  and  her  constitution,  which  was  never  strong,  seemed  to 
be  giving  way  altogether.  She  could  play  but  twice  a  Aveek, 
and  those  who  saw  her  at  the  close  of  each  performance  deem- 
ed that  one  must  be  her  last,  so  frail,  so  reed-like  was  her  fig- 
ure. She  was  threatened  with  a  complaint  of  the  lungs,  and 
was  subject  to  frequent  fits  of  illness.  At  the  recurrence  of 
each  attack,  the  anxious  solicitude  of  the  public  was  manifest- 
ed in  the  most  flattering  manner,  as  much  interest  being  taken 
in  her  health  as  though  she  had  been  some  potentate  wielding 
the  destinies  of  nations.     The  newspapers  published  daily  bul- 


64  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

letins  of  her  health,  and  her  door  was  besieged  by  anxious  in- 
quirers of  the  highest  rank. 

But,  though  so  often  incapacitated  by  illness,  when  able  to 
exert  herself,  Rachel  found  time  to  make  some  amends  by 
study  for  the  deficiencies  of  early  education.  She  made  her- 
self mistress  of  the  grammatical  difficulties  of  the  language 
whose  literary  gems  she  so  splendidly  interpreted.  She  soon 
learned  to  write  correctly,  and  she  had  been  too  long  accus- 
tomed to  the  pure  and  classical  grace  of  Corneille  and  Racine 
not  to  express  herself  with  elegance  in  conversation.  l^This 
girl,  whose  childhood  had  been  spent  in  the  haunts  of  poverty 
and  in  the  companionship  of  the  illiterate,  the  vulgar,  and 
low-bred,  had  so  keen  an  intuition  of  the  proprieties  of  high- 
toned  society,  so  great  a  facility  of  adaptation,  so  ready  a 
tact,  so  quick  a  perception  of  the  beautiful,  that  she  was  nev- 
er out  of  place  in  the  aristocratic  salons  into  which,  in  the 
early  part  of  her  career,  she  was  admitted.  She  was  there 
well-bred,  gentle,  and  unaffected,  accepting  and  acting  the 
part  of  a  gentlewoman  as  though  to  the  manner  born.  Her 
taste  was  cultivated  by  the  study  of  the  classics,  and  she  en- 
joyed the  advantage  of  frequenting  the  most  refined  circles,  as 
well  as  the  intimacy  of  the  most  accomplished  men  in  France. 
In  the  salon  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  of  which  she  did  the 
honors  with  the  most  perfect  grace  and  tact,  not  only  the  il- 
lustrious of  the  literary  world,  but  the  most  eminent  states- 
men, the  most  talented  politicians  of  the  day  were  wont  to 
assemble. 

Though  nature  and  habit  were  thus  broken  in  and  curbed 
under  the  yoke  of  will,  they  returned  at  times  in  full  force, 
justifying  the  proverb  of  "  chassez  le  naturel  il  retourne  au  ga- 
loj).''  "Whether  this  was  the  case,  or  whether  excess  of  vani- 
ty or  some  other  cause  had  evil-disposed  the  idol,  it  is  certain 
that  on  some  occasions  she  behaved  with  excessive  discour- 
tesy. The  following,  which  was  related  to  the  writer  by  the 
chief  performer  in  the  little  scene,  may  be  relied  on  as  a  spec- 
imen of  her  occasional  shortcomings. 

The  niece  of  Ducis,  Madame  Victoire  Babois,  so  well  known 
as  the  author  of  the  admirable  "Maternal  Elegies,"  and  who 
had  reached  the  advanced  age  of  78,  was  then  prostrated  by 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACnEL.  65 

the  illness  that  was  to  terminate  her  existence.  The  cele- 
brated poetess,  Madame  Melanie  Waldor,  seeking  to  amuse 
her  old  friend  with  the  little  items  of  news  of  the  day,  men- 
tioned that  Madame  de  Gasparin,  the  wife  of  the  Minister  of 
the  Interior,  was  to  give  a  magnificent  soiree,  and  that  Mad- 
emoiselle Kachel  was  among  the  expected  guests.  "Ah!" 
exclaimed  Madame  Babois,  '•  before  I  die  I  will  address  a  few 
lines  to  this  great  tragic  actress  ;  you  shall  have  them  to-mor- 
row." On  the  following  day  Madame  Waldor  received  from 
the  hands  of  the  dying  woman  a  dozen  lines,  which,  to  her 
great  regret,  she  has  since  lost. 

Some  twelve  hundred  persons  that  evening  anxiously  await- 
ed the  arrival  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  who  was  then  perform' 
ing  in  "  Les  Horaces"  at  the  Theatre  Fran(;ais.  At  half  past 
eleven  she  had  not  arrived.  No  other  artist,  no  poet,  no  mu- 
sician, had  been  invited  to  contribute  their  talents  toward 
lio^htening  the  ennui  of  the  cold,  tedious  official  soiree.  Mad- 
ame  de  Gasparin  and  many  of  her  distinguished  guests  ear- 
nestly requested  that  Madame  Waldor  would  recite  one  of  her 
own  poems  ;  but  that  lady,  unwilling  to  place  herself  on  the 
same  footing  with  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  whose  business  it  was 
to  entertain  the  public,  positively  declined.  She  came  at  last 
— the  long-expected  idol.  A  dead  silence  ensued,  shortly  aft- 
er succeeded  by  a  universal  stir  and  bustle  ;  every  one  was  en- 
deavoring to  get  near  to  see,  and,  if  possible,  to  speak  to  her 
who  created  all  this  excitement. 

The  Jewish  Melpomene  was  dressed  in  white,  and  was  ex- 
ceedingly thin,  but  on  her  brow  she  wore  the  consecrating 
seal  of  destiny — the  tragic  look  that  was  the  indelible  sign  of 
her  mission.  Had  it  not  been  for  this  redeeming  point,  she 
might  have  been  thought  insignificant.  She  recited  with  con- 
summate talent  a  scene  from  "  Cinna,"  and  was  greatly  ap- 
plauded. It  was  then  that  the  hostess  said  to  her,  introduc- 
ing Madame  W , 

"  This  lady  is  Madame  Melanie  Waldor,  one  of  our  poet- 
ical glories  ;  she  is  the  friend  of  a  woman  of  great  talent,  who, 
though  on  her  death-bed,  has  written  some  exquisite  lines  in 
your  honor.     Madame  Waldor  will  read  them  to  you." 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  did  not  answer  a  word,  or  give  the 
least  token  even  of  acquiescence. 


66  jrEMOIRS   OF    RACHEL. 

Madame  Waldor  then  read  in  a  tone  of  great  emotion  her 
friend's  lines ;  they  were  fall  of  noble  sentiments,  and  spoke 
the  most  graceful  praise.  Mademoiselle  Rachel  uttered  no 
word  of  gratitude,  made  no  sign  of  courteous  acknowledg- 
ment. She  maintained  the  same  immovable,  stitf  silence. 
Had  she  been  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind,  she  could  not  have  ap- 
peared more  insensible  to  this  touching  homage  sent  to  her 
fi'om  the  brink  of  the  gi-ave.  The  guests  looked  at  each  other 
in  astonishment.     Madame  Waldor  turned  abruptly  away. 

'•■  That  little  girl,"  said  she,  aloud  to  Madame  de  Gasparin, 
with  her  rough  Breton  frankness,  careless  of  being  overheard, 
"  that  little  girl  has  received  of  Heaven  a  great  gift,  but  with 
it  she  has  neither  heart  nor  brains." 

Madame  Waldor  subsequently  met  Mademoiselle  Rachel  at 
the  houses  of  Madame  de  Re'camier  and  other  persons  of  dis- 
tinction where  fashion  had  introduced  the  actress,  but  she  nev- 
er saw  reason  to  change  her  opinion. 

Among  the  charges  brought  against  Rachel  even  at  this 
early  period  of  her  career  was  that  of  lacking  tenderness,  fem- 
inine softness.  To  this  her  pai'tisans  reply  that  she  possesses 
both  in  an  eminent  degree,  but  that  she  lacks  the  faculty  of 
expressing  them  from  the  very  fact  that  her  voice  is  so  well 
suited  to  the  utterance  of  violent  passions.  Neither  has  she 
the  gift  of  tears,  and  of  this  deficiency  she  is  herself  fully 
aware  ;  we  can  not  call  forth  the  tears  of  others  unless  we  can 
ourselves  weep,  or  at  least  are  deeply  moved.  In  proof  that 
she  had  no  real  feeling,  and  that  her  exquisite  acting  was  the 
result  of  quick  perception  and  earnest  study,  it  was  urged  that 
when  she  came  off  the  stage  her  pulse  remained  perfectly  nat- 
ural, her  skin  cool,  her  voice  calm,  even  though  she  had  just 
exhibited  the  utmost  extremes  of  mental  agony  on  the  boards. 
This  assertion,  however,  is  not  correct.  Whatever  the  degree 
of  feeling  Mademoiselle  Rachel  may  possess,  the  above  allega- 
tions as  to  the  lack  of  external  tokens  of  it  are  false.  When 
playing  some  of  her  arduous  roles,  she  was  covered  with  per- 
spiration even  in  the  depth  of  winter.  After  the  utterance 
of  the  terrific  imprecations  of  Camille,  she  used  to  remain  sev- 
eral minutes  gasping  for  breath,  her  eyes  seeming  to  withdraw 
into  their  orbits,  and  her  lips  assuming  a  violet  hue.     A  con- 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  G7 

sequence  of  this  fearful  excitement  in  one  of  her  delicacy  of 
constitution  was  the  illness  that  necessitated  her  long  sojourn 
in  Egypt.  That  this  overwrought  state  may  at  times  have 
been  somewhat  exaggerated  for  the  sake  of  effect  is  very  prob- 
able ;  at  any  rate,  after  the  most  laborious  scenes,  such  as 
those  of  fourth  and  fifth  acts,  she  frequently  fell  fainting  in 
the  arms  of  her  mother  and  her  maid,  who  were  always  wait- 
ins  for  her  behind  the  scenes. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

1840. 

Alarming  Incident.  —  Three  Plays  revived  this  year:  "Nicomede," 
"Polyeucte,"  and  "Marie  Stuart  " — Benefit  of  Mademoiselle  The- 
nard  at  Versailles. — Why  Racine  is  generally  preferred  to  Corneille. 
— Mademoiselle  Rachel  as  Pauline. — Commences  her  Tour  through 
the  Provinces.  —  Debiit  at  Rouen.  — Letter  to  the  Manager.  — The 
Medallion  of  "my  second  Father." — Success  at  Lyons,  &c.,  &c. — 
Reappearance  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais. — Indiiference  of  the  Public 
for  the  classical  Drama. — Artistic  Selfishness. 

The  year  1840  was  ushered  in  in  rather  an  alarming  man- 
ner for  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  who  was  then  residing  in  the 
Passage  Ve'rot  Dodat.  She  was  roused  from  her  sleep  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  January  by  the  blazing 
and  crackling  of  the  bed-room  floor.  However,  the  fire,  which 
had  originated  in  one  of  the  shops  of  the  firm  of  Aubert,  on 
the  first  floor,  then  filled  with  albums,  portfolios,  and  other 
combustibles  for  New  Year  presents,  was  soon  got  under,  and 
little  damage  was  done. 

On  the  22d  of  February  Mademoiselle  Rachel  played  in 
Versailles.  This  was  the  first  time  she  had  acted  out  of  Paris. 
The  play  was  "  Cinna,"  and  it  was  given  for  the  benefit  of 
Madame  Thenard,  who  always  performed  the  part  of  confidante 
to  all  the  tragic  characters  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  giving  her 
the  cue  by  her  ready  replies,  and  receiving  her  maternally  in 
her  arms  at  the  moment  of  the  catastrophe. 

A  little  incident,  characteristic  of  the  trage'dienne's  prone- 
ness  to  make  promises  which  she  afterward  regretted  and  made 
no  scruple  of  breaking,  occurred  on  the  occasion  of  this  trip  to 


68  MEMOIRS   OP  RACHEL. 

Versailles.  She  had  invited  three  or  four  friends  to  accompany 
her,  and  as  an  inducement  to  get  them  to  go  so  far  on  a  very 
cold  night  to  see  '•  Cinna"  for  the  twentieth  time,  she  prom- 
ised to  give  them  a  snug  little  supper  on  their  return  to  Paris. 

After  the  play,  the  party  set  out  in  a  hackney-coach  as  old 
as  the  man  who  drove  it,  and  his  age  might  be  judged  by  the 
fact  that  he  had  belonged  to  the  household  of  the  Count  de 
Provence,  who  had  sent  him  to  the  King  of  Spain  in  the  year 
1791,  before  the  princes  emigrated;  the  gait  of  (he  horses 
seemed  to  prove  them  contemporaries  of  (he  coachman.  The 
night  was  terribly  cold,  and  the  party  was  two  hours  reaching 
Paris.  The  guests'  expectation  of  the  good  supper  that  was 
to  recruit  their  spirits  after  the  fatigue  of  the  journey  bore  it 
patiently.  Great  then  was  their  dismay  when,  on  arriving  at 
the  gates  of  the  Passage  Ve'rot  Dodat,  Eachel  having  whis- 
pered to  her  mother  as  they  alighted,  the  old  lady,  turning  to 
their  frozen  and  starved  companions,  dismissed  them  with 
"  Au  revoir.  Messieurs,  I  think  we  shall  all  sleep  souiidh/."  Ra- 
chel was  subsequently  so  known  among  her  comrades  for  in- 
viting people  to  dinners  and  suppers  she  did  not  give  them 
that  it  was  seldom  they  were  deceived  into  believing  her. 

So  violent  was  the  reaction  against  her  at  this  period  among 
the  critics,  that  on  the  occasion  of  her  playing  in  '•  Mithri- 
dates"  at  the  Odcon  on  the  18lh  of  April,  the  only  notice 
taken  of  her  by  Jules  Janin,  her  quondam  admirer,  was  the 
careless  remark  that  she  had  appeared  in  one  of  her  three  char- 
acters. The  play  was  for  the  benefit  of  Faui-e,  the  old  actor ; 
the  house  was  very  thinly  filled. 

On  the  9th  of  April  the  play  of  "  Nicomede"  was  I'evived 
for  her.  Laodice  was  taken  little  notice  of.  The  public  was 
impatient  for  the  long-announced  part  of  Pauline  in  "  Poly- 
eucte."  In  general,  however,  Racine  is  preferred  to  Corneille. 
The  preference  is  readily  explained.  Corneille  personifies  the 
genius  of  antiquity,  and  is  the  worthy  rival  of  Shakspeare  and 
Calderon.  But  the  themes  of  his  tragedies  have,  except  un- 
der peculiar  circumstances,  lost  much  of  their  interest  at  the 
present  day.  Politics,  religion,  national  honor,  inspired  the 
austei-e  muse  of  Corneille  ;  hence  his  plays  produce  the  great- 
est sensation  in  times  of  war  or  of  revolution. 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  69 

Love,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  chief  subject  of  Racine's  mas- 
ter-pieces, and  gives  them  an  interest  which  is  of  all  ages  and 
all  nations. 

Though  a  religious  feeling  is  indispensable  for  the  just  ap- 
preciation of  '•  Polyeucte,"  others  are  equally  excited.  Nei- 
ther the  interests  of  religion  nor  the  fate  of  empires  are  here 
at  stake ;  the  theme,  based  on  the  devotion  of  an  enthusiastic 
man,  the  struggles  in  the  heart  of  a  woman  divided  between 
love  and  pity,  and  the  respectful  passion  of  a  lover  who  vainly 
endeavors  to  save  his  rival,  reach  the  heart  of  every  spectator. 

"  Polyeucte"  was  revived  on  the  15th  of  May.  This  fine 
tragedy  had  not  been  on  the  stage  for  twenty-two  years,  and 
even  before  the  death  of  Talma  it  had  been  thought  impossi- 
ble to  act  it  at  the  Theatre  FranQais,  so  difficult  is  the  part  of 
its  heroine,  in  whom  are  personified  in  all  their  purity  the  no- 
blest passions  of  the  human  heart:  love,  duty,  faith,  and  en- 
thusiasm. While  the  various  feelings  and  passions  are  indi- 
cated and  distinguished  by  subtle  and  delicate  shades,  its  sen- 
timents are  within  the  strict  limits  of  good  sense.  Heroism 
itself,  based  on  stern  reason,  is  here  calm,  deliberate,  and  sub- 
dued ;  there  are  no  sudden  transports,  no  fiery  impulses,  no 
bursts  of  passion,  no  ii'onical  taunts ;  in  this  high  soul  pride 
itself  has  no  place.  But,  because  the  character  is  not  violent, 
it  by  no  means  follows  that  it  is  tame,  and  when  INIadcmoiselle 
Rachel  first  acted  the  part  she  showed  no  comprehension  of 
the  nice  distinctions  that  constitute  its  chief  charm.  The  role 
o{  Pauline  combines  two  apparently  discordant  elements  ;  the 
heroine  is,  in  fact,  half  pagan  and  half  Christian.  She  belongs 
at  once  to  the  gods  of  the  Capitol  and  to  the  God  of  the 
Christians.  The  part  of  this  sainted  young  heathen  demands 
an  innocent,  chaste,  and  pure  young  soul ;  infinite  ease,  grace, 
and  repose  of  manner.  The  noble  young  maiden,  whose  heart 
is  so  free  from  guile  that  she  has  no  motive  for  concealment, 
utters  unhesitatingly  every  thought,  steps  with  the  unswerv- 
ing boldness  of  innocence,  is  frank,  loyal,  and  free  even  with 
Severe,  though  she  reciprocates  his  love,  and  meets  him  after  a 
year's  absence  as  though  they  had  been  parted  but  a  few 
hours.  In  her  delineation  INIademoiselle  Rachel  erred  sadly. 
She  spoke  the  part  with  her  usual  clear,  correct,  impressive 


70  MKMOIBS    OF    RACHEL. 

intonation,  but  with  the  same  inflections  from  beginning  to 
end ;  the  same  deep,  sepulchral  tones,  whether  addressing  her 
father,  her  lover,  or  her  husband,  giving  it  an  intolerable  same- 
ness, while  her  gestures  expressed  a  timid  hesitancy  denoting 
fear,  and  destitute  of  dignity.  For  girlish  grace  she  substi- 
tuted the  stern  demeanor  of  a  Roman  mati'on,  folding  her 
robe  about  her  with  the  severe  gesture  and  look  of  one  called 
upon  to  resist  a  seducer.  In  all  probability,  the  actress  was 
really  afraid  of  the  numberless  difficulties  this  role  presents, 
and  sought  to  avoid  them  by  maintaining  a  uniform,  even  de- 
liveiy,  compelling  the  actors  who  surrounded  her  to  adopt  a 
species  of  slow  under-tone  and  subdued  action,  imparting  not 
only  to  the  part  of  Pauline,  but  to  the  whole  play,  a  monotony 
that  produced  on  the  audience  something  like  ennui.  The  re- 
sult was  that  the  admirable  fourth  act,  so  full  of  thrilling  emo- 
tion, and  in  which  is  the  finest  moment  of  Pauline's  existence, 
produced  little  effect.  In  the  famous  passage,  "Je  crois,je  suis 
Chretienne!"  Mademoiselle  Each  el  redeemed  her  credit,  and 
found  a  spark  of  the  spirit  of  inspiration  that  had  rendered  her 
so  successful  on  former  occasions.  Her  eye,  till  then  so  leaden, 
suddenly  quickened  into  life ;  her  hitherto  unmoved  brow 
seemed  to  expand,  her  hands  were  loosened,  her  prisoned  voice 
came  forth  boldly,  energetically.  With  all  due  respect  for  the 
learned  men  who  had  undertaken  to  make  a  Eoman  convert 
to  Christianity  of  the  daughter  of  Israel,  it  must  be  owTied 
that  their  lessons  had  availed  little.  It  was  only  when  the 
subject  seemed  to  require  the  inspiration  of  the  faith  which  she 
lacked  that  their  unbelieving  pupil  really  succeeded  in  it. 
Surely  the  Jewish  maiden  could  not  understand  the  terrible 
struggles  of  Pauline,  far  less  the  miracle  of  Grace  Avhich  has 
been  the  subject  of  discussion  with  the  most  learned  doctors  of 
the  Church,  so  little  had  the  reality  of  feeling  to  do  with  its 
expression  from  her  lips. 

It  was  in  June  of  this  year  that  Rachel,  or  rather  her  father 
in  her  name,  consented  to  go  through  the  Departments.  Every 
proposal  to  do  so  had  hitherto  been  declined,  the  sum  offered 
not  satisfying  the  rapacious  old  man.  The  remuneration  hav- 
ing at  length  been  deemed  sufficiently  high,  Rachel  set  out  for 
Rouen.     Much  stress  was  laid  by  the  press  on  the  choice  made 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  71 

of  this  town,  the  birth-place  of  Corneille,  for  her  debut  in  the 
provinces,  and  her  announcement  that  she  would  delay  her 
first  appearance  for  two  days  in  order  that  she  might  make  it 
on  the  sixth,  the  anniversary  of  his  birth.  The  following  let- 
ter was  quoted  in  all  the  papers : 

"  Monsieur, — It  is  true  that  a  slight  indisposition  prevents 
my  performing  to-morrow  (Thursday,  4th  of  June),  but  I  own 
also  that  a  far  more  powerful  motive — a  sacred  duty,  in  fact 
— induces  me  to  postpone  doing  so.  The  Gth  is  the  anniver- 
sary of  the  birth  of  the  great  Corneille,  and  I  would  wish  to 
commence  my  performances  on  that  day.  The  motive  for  the 
delay  is  surely  too  praiseworthy  to  admit  of  any  objection  be- 
ing made.  I  remain,  &c.,  &c.,  Rachel. 
"To  i\Ionsieur  Nicolo,*  Manager  of  the  Theatre  dcs  Arts  in  Rouen." 

The  j^artei^-e  of  Rouen  has  always  been  the  most  celebrated 
for  its  severe  and  unbiased  judgments  on  the  merits  of  artists 
of  all  provincial  theatres.  It  refuses  to  be  guided  by  success 
won  in  the  capital,  and  boasts  of  having  hissed  Talma  himself 
in  his  youth.  The  homage  paid  by  the  actress  to  the  genius 
of  whom  the  Rouennais  are  justly  proud  could  not  fail  to  pro- 
duce a  favorable  impression,  and  her  advisers  were  good  judges. 
HoAV  far,  however,  the  feeling  expressed  by  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel was  genuine,  the  following  little  anecdote  will  show. 

A  person  as  yet  unacquainted  with  the  true  source  of  Mad- 
emoiselle Rachel's  enthusiasm,  hearing  her  speak  in  such  glow- 
ing terms  of  him  she  was  wont  to  call  her  second  father,  pre- 
sented her  with  a  superb  medallion  of  Corneille.  The  gift 
was  received  with  becoming  gratitude,  kissed  with  fervent  rap- 
tures, and  the  donor  assured  it  would  never,  never  be  parted 
with. 

Some  few  days  after,  the  credulous  gentleman  being  on  a 

visit  to  Mr.  D ,  the  celebrated  dramatist,  mentioned  the 

pleasure  he  had  in  presenting  the  medallion,  and  the  Jilial 

gratitude  expressed  on  the  occasion,     Mr.  D ,  who  was 

then  a  country  neighbor  of  the  celebrated  artiste,  smilingly  re- 
marked that  it  would  not  be  very  difficult  to  obtain  this  pre- 

*  This  gentleman  was  a  brother  of  the  famous  composer  of  that  name. 


72  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

cious  souvenir.     The  assertion  being  indignantly  received,  Mr. 

D continued :   "  Nay,  I'll  wager  any  amount  I'll  show  it 

you  within  a  month — a  week — a  day — two  hours  ;  and,"  add- 
ed Mr.  D ,  taking  a  small  parcel  from  a  drawer,  "  do  not 

be  too  savage,  my  artless  friend,  here  is  the  never-to-be-parted- 
with  medallion !" 

Mademoiselle  Rachel's  filial  gratitude  had  not  resisted  the 
temptation  to  dispose  of  it  where  it  probably  brought  her  in 
a  larger  interest  than  when  in  her  own  possession. 

The  little  farce  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  him  who,  while 
living  on  a  pension  of  two  thousand  francs,  wrote  the  master- 
pieces that  have  given  millions  to  Mademoiselle  Kachel,  was 
very  successful ;  the  public  of  Rouen  repaid  in  praise  and 
more  solid  coin  the  trouble  taken  to  please  it. 

In  Lyons,  enthusiasm  was  at  its  height ;  the  municipality 
presented  her  with  a  gold  crown  valued  at  7000  francs.  The 
continuation  of  her  tour  was  equally  satisfactory. 

It  was  during  this  visit  to  Lyons  that  the  following  inter- 
esting incident  is  said  to  have  taken  place.  On  one  of  the 
ofF-nights,  having  dressed  very  plainly,  the  young  actress,  ac- 
companied by  a  male  friend,  set  out  to  visit  the  diiferent  parts 
of  the  city  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  when  she 
and  her  sister  Sarah  were  obliged  each  night  to  bring  home  a 
certain  amount  of  small  coin.  A  coffee-house  in  the  vicinity 
of  Le  Theatre  Celestins,  one  of  the  minor  theatres,  was  a  fa- 
vorite place  of  resort  with  the  poor  children.  On  arriving 
here  the  emotion  of  Rachel  was  very  great.  Having  entered 
with  her  companion,  they  seated  themselves  at  one  of  the  lit- 
tle tables  and  ordered  some  refreshment ;  but  she  could  touch 
nothing ;  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  and,  finding  herself 
recognized,  she  hastened  home.  While  on  the  stage  the  next 
evening,  she  could  not  help  contrasting  the  present  with  the 
past,  and  reflecting  on  the  difference  time  had  made  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  child  who  once,  in  that  very  town,  had  recited 
her  little  fables  to  careless  ears  for  the  sake  of  a  few  sous, 
doled  out  more  from  a  feeling  of  charity  than  as  a  reward  to 
repay  the  pleasure  she  had  imparted,  and  the  young  girl  to 
whom  a  fashionable  audience  was  now  listening  with  rapt  at- 
tention, and  on  whom  monarchs  hastened  to  lavish  rich  gifts. 


31EMU1HS    OF    KACUEL.  73 

Kachel  had  no  false  pride  on  the  subject  of  her  early  penu- 
ry, and  never  hesitated  to  speak  of  it  when  the  subject  was 
introduced.  The  person  who  had  kept  the  cafe  where  the 
little  street-performers  were  Avont  to  exercise  their  talents 
havinor  retired  from  business  and  gone  to  live  in  Paris,  called 
upon  Rachel,  who  received  her  with  open  arras. 

In  afeuilleton  of  the  "  Constitutionncl,"  Ave  find,  apropos  of 
the  contrasts  she  sometimes  made  between  the  past  and  the 
present,  the  following,  related  by  Mr.  Fiorentino  : 

"At  a  concert  given  at  the  Salle  Herz  for  some  charity, 
the  celebrated  tragedienne  had  played  in  her  toilette  de  ville  two 
scenes  from  '  Phedre,'  and  had  been  recalled  thrice  by  the  de- 
lighted audience.  Several  of  the  lady  patronesses  begged  she 
would  undertake  Avith  them  the  office  of  queleme  for  the  ben- 
efit of  the  poor  orphans  for  Avhom  she  had  just  contributed 
the  aid  of  her  talent.  Mademoiselle  Rachel  then  did  me  the 
honor  to  take  my  arm.  The  audience  Avas  composed  of  the 
elite  of  Parisian  society,  and  the  velvet  bag  gracefully  present- 
ed by  the  artiste  Avas  soon  filled.  She  merrily  emptied  it  into 
my  liat  each  time,  saying  to  the  admirers  Avho  hastened  to 
present  their  offering, 

"  '  Messieurs,  I  can  not  accept  less  than  a  louis.' 

"  The  collection  amounted  to  no  less  than  3000  francs,  and 
the  quHeuse  appeared  highly  delighted  Avith  her  success ;  but, 
as  Avc  returned  home,  her  countenance  suddenly  assumed  a  sad 
expression : 

"  '  Such,'  said  she,  '  is  the  vanity  of  men ;  they  willingly 
give  me  a  louis  now  I  am  rich  and  celebrated ;  they  refused 
to  give  me  tAvo  sous  Avhen  I  Avas  a  poor  child  dying  of  hun- 
ger !'  " 

At  the  expiration  of  her  conge  Mademoiselle  Rachel  reap- 
peared at  the  Theatre  Franqais  on  the  14th  of  September. 
She  was  seldom  required  to  play  during  the  autumn  of  this 
year.  Mademoiselle  Mars  was  about  to  retire  from  the  stage, 
and  the  desire  to  enjoy  the  privilege  of  seeing  this  great  ac- 
tress, filling  the  house  every  time  she  Avas  announced,  the  man- 
ajrers  took  advantage  of  it  to  reserve  Mademoiselle  Rachel. 

Some  efforts  were,  hoAvever,  made  to  resuscitate  the  classic 
drama,  and  to  this  end,  as  Joauny  was  getting  old,  the  debuts 

D 


74  BIEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

of  Guyon  were  much  encouraged.  The  opinion?,  or  rather 
the  laments  of  the  critics  during  the  last  four  months  of  1840 
are  exceedingly  curious,  and  afford  a  triumphant  refutation  to 
the  assertions  of  those  who  complain  that  the  Americans  lack- 
ed taste  for  the  tragic  master-pieces  imported  by  Rachel  into 
the  States  sixteen  years  later.  Certes,  if  the  pecuniary  results 
of  her  voyage  did  not  satisfy  her  insatiate  brother,  Raphael, 
the  Americans  were  not  to  blame ;  they  could  hardly  be  ex- 
pected to  exhibit  more  warmth  in  honor  of  the  French  classic 
drama  than  the  elite  of  Paris.  The  public  cared  so  little  for 
the  play  itself,  that  whenever  the  favorite  actress  or  actor  was 
not  on  the  stage,  every  back  was  turned  to  it,  and  conversa- 
tion was  resumed  as  though  nothing  was  being  said  on  the 
boards.  Some  excuse  might  be  found  for  this  indifference  in 
the  careless  manner  in  which  the  tragedies  were  got  up ;  the 
actors  in  the  secondary  parts  w^ere  perfect  sticks,  who  seemed 
in  a  great  hurry  to  get  rid  of  what  they  had  to  say,  no  matter 
how,  and  rush  off  the  stage  ;  the  accessories  were  mean  to  the 
last  degi'ee ;  dresses,  &c.,  &c,,  the  merest  trumpery. 

Rachel  herself  contributed  no  little  to  disgust  the  public 
■with  every  other  actor.  Like  all  stars,  she  cared  for  no  one 
else,  and  endeavored  to  concentrate  on  herself  the  attention  of 
the  public  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  She  never  played  to 
her  fellow-actors  on  the  stage,  nor  for  the  sake  of  bringing 
into  relief  the  beauties  of  the  play.  She  kept  aloof  as  much 
as  possible  from  her  companions,  never  seemed  to  answer  them 
when  the  scene  required  it,  or  to  hear  them  when  it  was  their 
turn  to  reply  to  her.  She  showed  no  interest  whatever  in 
what  was  going  on  about  her,  but  waited  until  it  was  her 
turn  to  speak,  certain  to  draw  upon  herself  the  undivided  at- 
tention of  the  audience.  This  utter  indifference  to  the  busi- 
ness of  the  stage  occasioned  the  most  ridiculous  oversights  in 
the  most  difficult  scenes,  disheartened  the  other  actors,  and 
completely  effected  her  purpose,  which  was  the  same  through- 
out her  career,  viz.,  to  drive  from  the  stage  any  person  likely 
to  share  with  her  the  favor  of  the  public. 

On  the  22d  of  December  the  "  Marie  Stuart"  of  Le  Brun 
was  revived,  with  Mademoiselle  Rachel  as  the  heroine.  Who- 
ever has  read  the  drama  will  readily  perceive  the  points  in 


MEMOIRS    OF    EACHEL.  75 

which  the  precocious  actress  failed,  at  least  on  her  first  at- 
tempt. 

This  problem  of  history,  the  mystery  of  the  heart,  the  solu- 
tion of  which  has  been  vainly  sought  by  each  successive  gen- 
eration with  never-failing  interest,  has  been  divined  by  one 
man  only.  Of  the  three  dramatists,  German,  Italian,  and 
French,  who  have  ventured  to  touch  the  lovely  head  with  its 
fatal  triple  crown  and  its  still  more  fatal  coronet  of  beauty, 
laid  low  by  the  headsman,  the  first  alone  has  proved  worthy 
to  do  so.  Schiller  sought  in  his  own  poetical  soul,  as  well  as 
in  the  contradictory  pages  of  history,  the  elements  of  the  beau- 
tiful being  he  evoked  from  the  obscurity  of  past  ages.  He 
has  depicted  with  admirable  skill  the  hostile  meeting  of  the 
two  great  female  contemporaries,  the  contest  between  power 
and  beauty — between  strength  and  weakness — between  pos- 
session and  right — the  fatal  game  in  which  ambition,  love, 
jealousy,  and  pride  shuffled  the  cards,  and  life  was  the  forfeit. 
Political  motives  were  but  secondary  incentives  to  the  murder 
of  the  anointed  victim  ;  Avounded  self-love  and  irritated  vanity 
sharpened  the  axe.  Schiller  well  knew  a  woman  only  would 
have  invented  the  torture  of  depriving  her  rival  of  a  mirror. 
The  image  it  reflected  was  too  lovely ;  it  might  pi'ove  a  com- 
pensation to  all  the  rigors  of  fortune,  and  diminish  the  horrors 
of  captivity.  And,  again,  the  cool  ferocity  with  which  the 
gentle  Mary  retaliates  on  her  jailer,  lacerating  her  very  heart- 
strings with  those  same  light,  fairy  fingers  of  hers,  more  cruel 
than  the  talons  of  an  eagle.  The  mingled  scorn,  anger,  con- 
tempt, and  rage,  contained  in  her  letter  to  Elizabeth  that  has 
come  down  to  us,  in  which  she  alludes  to  her  real  or  supposed 
malformation,  infirmities,  and  moral  defects,  are  summed  up 
with  consummate  skill  in  the  magnificent  scene  of  the  third 
act,  when  the  exasperated  captive,  forgetful  or  careless  that 
she  is  in  the  lioness's  den,  taunts  tlie  monster  with  her  own 
and  her  mother's  iniquities.  Perhaps,  withal,  the  drama  falls* 
short  of  history  here,  for  the  reproaches  that  adultei'y  reigns 
over  the  people  of  England,  and  that  hypocrisij  was  its  sovereign, 
were  less  offensive  to  the  queen  than  was  the  recorded  use  of 
the  Jistula  in  the  leg  to  the  woman. 

We  have  all  admired  the  exquisite  lines  in  which   poor 


76  MEMOIRS    OF    RACUEL. 

Marie  pours  forth  her  soul  when  she  is  permitted,  like  a  bird 
with  a  string  round  its  foot,  to  roam  for  a  moment  in  appar- 
ent freedom. 

Faithfully  has  the  German  poet  followed  history,  step  by 
step,  guessing  what  the  veil  of  time  concealed,  and  giving  new 
life  to  those  long-buried  human  passions.  One  personage,  it 
were  to  be  hoped,  was  of  his  own  invention,  did  not  his  re- 
corded deeds  too  plainly  prove  that  such  a  miscreant  had  ex- 
isted :  a  wretch  divided  between  love  (?)  and  ambition — be- 
tween the  royal  murderess  and  her  no  less  regal  victim,  who, 
during  five  acts,  is  the  servile  courtier,  the  cringing  laquaiSy 
the  lover  of  the  daughter  of  Anna  Boleyn,  a  traitor  to  two 
queens,  affecting  to  wish  to  save  Mary  of  Scotland  and  coun- 
seling her  murder,  assisting  at  its  perpetration  and  reporting 
its  details  to  his  bloody  mistress,  Elizabeth  of  England !  The 
dramatist  has  given  the  true  colors  of  the  notorious  Earl  of 
Leicester,  whom  history  shows  us  charged  at  home  with  the 
murder  of  two  wives — on  the  field  of  battle  with  utter  inca- 
pacity— at  court  with  treason.  The  love  of  Mary  for  this 
man  is  an  inci'edible  invention,  but  that  he  became  one  of  her 
most  violent  persecutors  in  revenge  for  her  having  contempt- 
uously rejected  his  homage  is  too  true. 

Such  were  the  materials  that  Schiller  had  at  his  disposal, 
and  well  did  he  use  them.  The  French  poet  has  given  but  a 
meagre  copy,  in  which  almost  every  beauty  of  the  original  is 
lost. 

In  the  7'o/e  of  "  Marie  Stuart"  Rachel  was  not  successful  on 
her  first  attempt,  though  she  subsequently  greatly  improved  it. 
The  failure  may,  in  a  great  measure,  be  atti'ibuted  to  her  ig- 
norance of  histoiy,  and,  consequently,  of  the  character,  feel- 
ings, and  manners  of  the  personage  she  represented,  of  the  age 
in  which  she  lived,  and  of  the  circumstances  in  which  she  was 
placed.  It  was  probably  with  a  view  that  she  should  learn 
*these  indispensable  points  that  M.de  Kemusat  presented  Made- 
moiselle Rachel  with  a  magnificent  copy  of  the  History  of 
Scotland.  On  this  occasion  it  was  very  evident  she  had  not 
yet  opened  its  gilded  pages.  The  advantage  derived  from  the 
study  of  history  has  been  appreciated  by  all  great  actors.  Tal- 
ma studied  Tacitus  in  the  morninijr  and  acted  his  heroes  in  the 


MEMOIRS    OK    RACHKL.  77 

evening.  Lekain  was  an  assiduous  student  of  the  ancients. 
Larozeliere  used  to  relate  that,  calling  one  morning  on  Mad- 
ame Dunenil,  he  found  her  in  her  garden,  sitting  by  a  well, 
reading  Suetonius,  and  meditating  on  the  character  of  Agrip- 
pina. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  understood  instinctively  the  violent 
passions  of  the  imprisoned,  vexed,  and  worried  Mary ;  she 
could  not  as  readily  understand  the  effect  of  religion  on  that 
tempest-tossed  soul — the  calm,  the  resignation  that  succeeds 
to  the  hurricane. 

She  could  depict  with  startling  truth  the  maddened  queen 
retaliating  with  usury  the  insults  heaped  upon  her,  and  drag- 
ging into  the  dust  even  the  memory  of  her  tormentor's  moth- 
er, but  beyond  that  rage  and  that  vengeance  she  saAv  nothing. 
She  could  bear  with  conscious  pride  the  weight  of  that  triple 
crown,  but  she  could  not  discern  the  block  to  which  she  was 
hastening — that  block  to  which  she  must  soon  bend  with  the 
dignity  of  a  queen,  but  also  with  the  resignation  of  a  Chris- 
tian and  a  martyr ! 

When  the  canopy,  the  innocent  emblem  of  sovereignty,  is 
torn  from  Mary's  chair,  Rachel  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of 
the  sublime  effort  with  Avhich  the  queen,  subduing  her  indigna- 
tion, says,  "Place  the  crucifix  here,  Melvil, and  let  us  kneel !" 
Mary  herself  was  twenty  years  learning  the  difficult  lesson  of 
humility  ;  it  cost  Mademoiselle  Rachel  fourteen  years  of  study 
to  enable  her  to  present  this,  the  fairest  side  of  the  picture. 

That  INIademoiselle  Rachel  had  not  sufficiently  weighed  the 
sense  of  the  words  she  uttered  was  evident  in  what  to  some 
may  appear  a  slight  mistake.  A  good  actor,  however,  is  aware 
of  the  importance  of  accessories  in  keeping  up  scenic  illusion. 
The  unfortunate  victim  of  female  tyranny  who  so  bitterly  com- 
plains of  being  imprisoned  in  a  dungeon,  deprived  of  rank, 
power,  friends,  attendance,  and  reduced  to  the  veriest  want — 

"Dans  Ics  murs  d'un  cacliot  vous  m'avcz  enfermec 
Depouillee  a  la  fois  do  toutes  Ics  prandcurs, 
Sans  secours,  sans  amis,  presque  sans  scrviteurs 
Au  plus  vil  denucmcnt  dans  ma  prison  reduite" — 

this  forlorn  lady  is  dressed  in  a  style  of  gorgeous  magnifi- 
cence ;  her  bodice  is  stiff  with  jewels,  and  some  twenty  rows 


78  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

of  pearl  encircle  her  neck!  This  rich  dress  was  accurate  as 
to  the  fashion  of  the  age,  but  it  was  not  true  to  the  situation. 
In  the  first  place,  it  quite  eclipsed  that  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
It  was  not  probable  that  the  rival  who  deprived  Mary  of  a 
mirror  would  have  allowed  her  to  keep  such  rich  attire.  The 
fine  dresses  of  the  woman  were  of  course  taken  from  her  on 
the  same  principle  that  the  sword  of  an  imprisoned  man  is 
not  left  to  him.  They  were  her  weapons,  and  as  Mary's  chief 
crime  was  her  beauty,  Elizabeth  was  the  less  likely  to  forget 
this  precaution.  Moreover,  this  splendor  renders  Mary  less 
interesting.  So  beautifully  dressed  a  woman  is  surely  not  to 
be  pitied.  One  might  feel  resigned  to  having  one's  head  cut 
off,  but  to  be  obliged  to  wear  an  unbecoming  cap  would  indeed 
be  cruel.  Mary  might  forgive  the  theft  of  her  crown,  never 
that  of  her  di-esses ! 

"  Marie  Stuart"  did  little  toward  consolidating  the  hold  of 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  on  public  opinion.  People  still  remem- 
bered the  intense  feeling  with  which  Mademoiselle  Duchesnois 
had  played  the  same  part,  and  the  comparison  was  not  favor- 
able to  her  successor. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
1841. 


Engagement  for  one  Year  signed  with  the  Theatre  Fran^ais.— Father 
and  Teacher.— Debuts  in  England. — Victoria  to  Mademoiselle  Ka- 
chel. — Andromaque  mistaken  for  Hermione. — Rachel  at  Windsor. — 
Eeturn  to  Paris. — Increasing  Splendors. — Rachel  a  thorough  Cos- 
mopolitan.— A  Rival ! — Contest  for  the  scenic  Sceptre  :  "  Marie  Stu- 
art."— Rachel  and  Elizabeth. — Maxime.— Fhedre  keeping  furnished 
Lodgings  and  a  Table  d'hote. 

It  has  been  seen  that  "  Marie  Stuart"  added  nothing  then 
to  the  reputation  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  While  her  parti- 
sans still  warmly  applauded  all  she  did,  it  was  evident  that 
curiosity  was  no  longer  excited  and  enthusiasm  had  cooled. 

The  actress  herself  was  much  too  anxious  to  secure  the  re- 
newal of  her  engagement  on  such  terms  as  she,  or  rather  her 
father,  deemed  she  could  safely  exact  to  study  new  parts  this 


MEMOIKS    OK    UACIIEL.  79 

year.  G0,000  francs  per  annum  and  three  months'  conge  were 
the  terras  she  licsitated  to  accept — that  is,  over  90,000  francs 
for  one  yeai'* — the  amount  paid  to  Monsieur  Guizot  to  govern 
the  most  ungovernable  nation  on  earth ! 

In  the  first  week  of  April,  however,  the  engagement  was  ac- 
cepted and  the  treaty  for  one  year  signed  on  the  above  terms ; 
furthermore,  it  was  agreed  that  at  the  close  of  the  year  Made- 
moiselle Kachel  should  be  received  societaire,  with  o,  full  share 
and  a  fixed  salary  of  42,000  francs. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel,  in  the  mean  Avhile,  had  enough  to  do 
to  please  her  domestic  advisers.  Her  life  was  no  easy  one  in 
this  respect.  Every  scene  she  studied  was  learned  with  the 
accompaniment  of  another  rather  more  annoying  in  its  unpo- 
etical  reality  to  the  poor  girl.  The  following  may  be  taken 
as  a  specimen : 

The  word  toujouvs,  for  instance,  is  to  be  spoken  in  Made- 
moiselle Eachel's  role.  M.  Sanson  advises  his  pupil  to  utter 
it  with  head  erect,  loud  voice,  and  firm,  resolute  tone. 

"  Thus,  raising  your  head,  say  '  Toujoui's.'  " 

M.  Felix,  who  is  present,  interposes  : 

"  No,  -that's  not  the  way ;  you  must  say  it  mildly — with 
great  feeling ;  thus,  casting  your  eyes  to  heaven,  Tou — jours." 

]\I.  Sanson  (annoyed)  :   "  It  must  be  said  authoritatively." 

M.  Felix  (getting  obstinate)  :  "It  must  be  spoken  tenderly 
—  pathetically." 

JM.  Sanson  (waxing  testy)  :  "  I  am  her  teacher,  and  must 
not  be  intei'fered  with." 

M.  Felix  (quite  furious) :  "  I  am  her  father,  and  must  be 
obeyed." 

Mademoiselle  Rachel,  quite  bewildered,  says  the  fatal  word 
toujouvs,  no  matter  how.  M.  Sanson  thinks  he  discerns  the 
intonation  suggested  by  Father  Felix,  and  becomes  indignant: 

"  You  are  an  ingrate !  A  pupil  who  is  indebted  to  me  for 
her  success !     I've  done  with  you  ;  adieu." 

Mademoiselle  Rachel,  dismayed  at  having  offended  her  pro- 

*  42,000  francs  out  of  the  G0,000  Avere  paid  her  out  of  the  subsidy 
given  by  the  state  ;  tbc  remainder  was  the  sum  her  full  share  as  socie- 
taire would  bring.  It  was  siipiMsed  her  conges  gave  over  30,000  francs 
yearly. 


80  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

fessor,  without  -whom  she  can  not  get  along,  says  toujours  as 
he  wished  she  should.  There  is  no  misunderstanding  her  this 
time,  and  Father  Felix,  in  liis  turn,  flies  into  a  passion : 

"You  unnatural  child!  You  rebellious  daughter!"  «fec., 
&c. 

Mademoiselle  JRachel  bursts  into  tears,  and  the  lesson  ends 
here,  for  the  pupil's  sobs  prevent  her  saying  toiijours  in  any  way. 

The  above,  and  other  similar  little  dialogues  were  reported 
at  the  time,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  public,  and  cer- 
tainly, if  not  true  to  the  letter,  were  very  true  to  the  tempers 
and  habits  of  the  personages. 

That  the  father  contributed  by  his  judicious  advice  to  the 
success  of  Rachel  is  well  known.  Entirely  ignorant  of  all 
rules,  having  perhaps  never  seen  good  acting — at  least  not 
good  French  actors — before  his  arrival  in  Paris,  he  possessed 
in  the  highest  degree  instinctive  dramatic  knowledge.  When- 
ever his  daughter  (in  the  early  part  of  her  career)  went  to  take 
her  lesson,  he  accompanied  her,  that  he  might  make  her  re- 
peat and  study  at  home,  which  she  always  did  with  his  assist- 
ance. For  keen  perception  of  what  was  right  or  wrong,  where 
strength,  passion,  &c.,  were  required,  no  teacher  surpassed  him. 
Had  he  studied  the  profession  in  his  youth,  he  would  have  at- 
tained high  excellence  in  the  art. 

In  order  to  stimulate  the  flagging  interest  of  the  Parisian 
public,  it  was  thought  advisable  to  accept  the  proposal  made 
by  Lumley,  of  her  majesty's  Theatre,  to  play  there  one  month. 
Nothing  that  could  give  eclat  to  her  reception  was  omitted, 
and  the  result  was  that  desired.  The  new  idol  was  greeted 
with  fanatical  admiration.  In  London  she  again  met  the  dis- 
tinguished English  to  whom  she  had  been  introduced  in  the 
salons  of  Paris.  She  was  invited  into  the  most  aristocratic 
circles,  at  Lord  Palmerston's,  Lady  Jersey's,  &c.  She  was 
every  where  accompanied  by  her  father  and  her  sister  Sarah. 
The  perfect  tact  of  the  old  man  stood  him  in  lieu  of  the  quali- 
ties he  lacked,  and,  besides,  the  daughter  made  the  father  ac- 
ceptable. 

As  for  Rachel,  her  unaffected  and  even  dignified  simplicity, 
her  modesty,  and  the  perfect  decorum  of  her  conduct,  made 
her  a  great  favorite  with  tlie  fastidious  English  aristocracy. 


MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEI,.  -  81 

The  aunts  of  the  qucen_  condescended  to  notice  licr,  and  she 
was  invited  to  "Windsor,  and  presented  by  the  Duchess  of  Kent 
to  her  majesty,  who  received  her  very  graciously.  The  usual 
roval  gift  was  on  this  occasion  a  bracelet  composed  of  two 
wreathed  serpents  with  diamond  heads,  and  bore,  graven  on 
the  inside,  a  few  words.  Those  words  were  subsequently 
commented  on  in  a  variety  of  ways.  It  was  said,  and  even 
reported  in  the  public  prints,  that  the  inscription  was  this : 
Victoria  to  Hachel.  The  truth  was,  it  stood  thus :  Victana  to 
Mademoiselle  Rachel;  the  diflerence  of  the  omission  of  a  single 
word  making  an  immense  one  in  the  sense. 
.  But  it  was  neither  the  inscription  nor  the  honor  the  gift 
brought  that  occupied  the  attention  of  the  recipient ;  her  mind 
was  set  on  more  substantial  advantages.  She  has  herself 
owned  that  her  first  impulse  was  to  feel  the  iceight  of  the 
bracelet,  and  thence  estimate  its  metallic  value ! 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  the  actress  appearing  to  suffer 
from  cold,  the  Duchess  of  Kent  is  said  to  have  covered  her 
shoulders  with  a  magnificent  yellow  Indian  shawl  of  her  own. 
This  shawl  was  afterward  taken  possession  of  by  mother  Felix, 
on  whose  shoulders,  had  it  been  gifted  with  consciousness,  the 
magnilicent  production  of  the  Indian  looms  must  have  been 
rather  astonished  to  find  itself. 

It  was  on  the  14th  of  May  that  Mademoiselle  Eachel  made 
her  dcbid  at  her  majesty's  Theatre.  A  company  of  French 
actors  attended  her  from  Paris,  and  the  first  tragedy  given  was 
"  Andromaque."  A  rather  amusing  mistake  was  made  this 
evening  by  the  London  audience,  who  had  never  yet  seen  the 
great  French  actress,  but  were  willing  to  accept  the  judg- 
ment of  the  Continent  sin-  parole.  The  person  who  acted  the 
first  tragic  parts  with  Rachel  was  gifted  by  nature  with  a  very 
fine  person,  but  was  an  actress  of  secondary  capacity.  She 
played  Andromaque,  and  appeared  in  the  third  scene  of  the 
first  act,  whereas  Rachel,  as  Ilei'mione,  did  not  come  on  until 
the  first  scene  of  the  second  act.  The  audience,  who  were  anx- 
iously awaiting  the  entrance  of  Rachel,  seeing  this  fine-looking 
Andromaque,  took  it  for  granted  that  this  was  the  phenome- 
non of  the  day,  and  greeted  her  with  thunders  that  quite  be- 
wildered jNIademoiselle  Larcher,  who  was   unaccustomed  to 

D2 


82  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

such  a  reception.  The  ovation  was  prolonged  to  the  close  of 
the  first  act,  and  when  the  real  object  of  this  enthusiasm  came 
on,  but  few  hands  were  raised  to  welcome  her.  The  truth 
was,  however,  soon  rumored,  and  the  homage  transferred  to 
its  legitimate  object. 

Every  movement  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  duly  chroni- 
cled by  the  press.  An  indisposition  with  which  she  was  seized 
at  a  soiree  of  Lady  Cardigan's  on  the  1st  of  June  was  reported 
with  extravagant  lamentations,  and  her  recovery  with  as  ex- 
travagant joy.  Her  reappearance  on  the  8th  of  June  was 
greeted  as  though  she  had  escaped  from  the  tomb.  The  queen 
and  queen-dowager  were  present. 

On  the  14th  of  June  Mademoiselle  Rachel  arrived  at  the 
Castle  Hotel  in  Windsor,  where  apartments  had  been  prepared 
for  her.  She  had  come  in  order  to  assist  at  a.  fete  given  by  the 
queen,  the  particulars  of  which  were  reported  in  the  papers  of 
the  day.  A  splendid  banquet,  to  which  were  invited  one  hun- 
dred and  two  guests,  pi-eceded  the  performances.  Among  the 
superb  plate  of  the  crown  displayed  were  the  Indian  trophies 
the  English  nation  has  lately  paid  for  so  dearly ;  the  magnifi- 
cent tiger's  head,  known  as  the  footstool  of  Tippoo  Sa'ib,  the 
splendid  peacock  adorned  with  precious  stones  of  immense 
value,  and  also  the  shield  of  Achilles.  On  the  right  and  left 
of  the  immense  buffet  on  which  this  wealth  of  nations  was  dis- 
played hung  the  blue  banners  of  Tippoo  Sa'ib,  adorned  with 
pearls  and  jewels  of  great  value. 

The  theati-ical  and  musical  entertainment  of  the  evenino- 

o 

was  presented  in  the  following  order: 

I. 

Fh-st  act  of  "Bajazet." 
Overture  of  Covint  d'Egmont. 

II. 

Third  act  of  "Marie  Stuart." 

March  of  Harold. 

III. 

Fourth  act  of  "  Andromaque." 

Symphony  of  Mozart. 

God  save  the  queen  ! 

During  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  stay  in  London,  negotiations 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  83 

were  set  on  foot  for  an  engagement  to  play  in  Spain,  but  they 
were  not  carried  through. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  took  her  leave  of  a  London  audience 
on  the  20th  of  July,  in  the  part  of  Camillc.  Every  formula  of 
praise  was  exhausted  by  the  press  on  this  occasion,  as  on  the 
preceding  ones.  According  to  the  on  dits  of  the  day,  her  tri- 
umph had  been  extended  to  the  heart  of  the  manager,  who  is 
said  to  have  offered  her  his  hand.  If  the  offer  was  made  it 
was  not  accepted,  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel  left  England  on 
her  way  to  Bordeaux  on  the  22d  of  July,  and  arrived  in  that 
city  on  the  1st  of  August. 

We  have  hitherto  followed  Mademoiselle  Rachel  more  es- 
pecially in  her  professional  career;  we  have  now  before  us  a 
more  arduous  task ;  we  are  to  speak  of  her  as  the  woman  in 
her  social  sphere :  a  delicate  subject  at  all  times,  .since  it  com- 
pels us  to  invade  the  sanctuary  of  private  life,  and  reveal  its 
mysteries  to  a  prj-ing  public,  but  more  especially  so  in  the 
present  case. 

We  will  endeavor  to  fulfill  this  task,  nothing  extenuating, 
nor  setting  down  aught  in  malice,  in  as  far  as  it  is  consistent 
with  conscientious  biography  to  report  the  words  and  actions 
of  its  subject.  But  there  are  grounds  it  is  not  our  province  to 
touch  upon  ;  grounds  that  are  beyond  the  limits  of  the  morbid 
curiosity  that  eagerly  seeks  to  find  in  every  great  work  that 
issues  from  the  Divine  hand  the  contaminating;  touch  of  the 
genius  of  evil ;  grounds  where  the  truth  is  too  obscure  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  fable,  and  where,  even  if  known,  it  would  afford 
no  better  clew  to  character,  would  convey  no  lesson,  prevent 
no  fall.  If,  then,  those  Avho  delight  in  the  scandalous  revela- 
tions of  the  foibles  of  poor  human  nature  have  taken  up  this 
book  with  the  hope  of  finding  in  it  a  detailed  account  of  the  nu- 
merous liaisons  attributed,  whether  justly  or  not,  to  this  celebra- 
ted woman,  and  the  innumerable  scandalous  anecdotes  that  have 
been  circulated  with  regard  to  her  and  her  supposed  admirers, 
we  warn  them  they  had  better  throw  it  down  at  once,  as  noth- 
ing so  piquant  seasons  its  matter-of-fact  pages.  Whatever  is 
necessary  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  character,  temper,  and  in- 
clinations, especially  in  all  that  has  any  connection  with  her 
talent  as  an  actress,  we  are  bound  to  offer  to  the  reader  so  far 


84:  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

as  we  have  it  in  our  power ;  farther,  we  have  nothing  to  add 
from  the  garrulous  chronique  scandaleuse  of  the  day. 

On  her  return  from  London  and  Bordeaux,  where,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  golden  harvests  she  had  reaped,  her  stay  had  been 
marked  daily  by  rich  tokens  of  individual  admiration,  the 
apartment  in  the  Passage  Verot  Dodat  could  no  longer  accord 
with  her  position.  A  handsome  apartment,  Rue  du  Luxem- 
bourg, near  the  Tuileries,  was  taken,  and  furnished  richly. 
Here  Rachel  had  a  suite  of  rooms  to  herself,  separated  from 
those  occupied  by  the  rest  of  the  family,  the  apartment  being 
divi(^ed  by  the  landing-place,  and  each  side  having  a  salon, 
bed-rooms,  &c.  The  young  girls,  Rebecca  and  Leah,  were 
placed  in  boarding-schools.  It  was  while  residing  in  this  apart- 
ment that  Rachel  first  owned  a  carriage ;  it  was  the  gift  of  a 
co-religionist,  M.  Cremieux,  a  brother  of  the  celebrated  advo- 
cate and  minister  of  the  provisional  govei-nment. 

The  success  of  Rachel  abroad  seemed  a  triumphant  refuta- 
tion of  the  criticisms  of  the  fault-finders  at  home.  The  en- 
thusiasm of  her  audiences  had  loaded  her  with  crowns,  poet- 
ical effusions,  and — what  to  her  was  most  welcome  of  all — 
money.  In  these  visits  to  foreign  countries  and  departmental 
tours  the  vanity  of  the  woman  and  the  avarice  of  the  Jewess 
were  fully  gratified,  while  the  artiste  had  no  criticisms  to  dread. 
In  Paris  praise  was  lavishly  awarded  when  deserved,  but  im- 
partial and  severe  criticism  visited  every  error,  and  held  up  in 
glaring  colors  every  false  step,  every  failure.  The  capital  of 
good  taste,  the  admitted  arbitress  of  merit,  considers  her 
slightest  commendations  equal  to  all  the  more  lightly-bestow- 
ed praise  of  less  competent  judges,  and  when  she  has  adopted 
a  child  of  genius,  she  is  jealously  exacting,  and  permits  of  no 
slight  to  herself  or  pi-eference  being  shown  for  other  towns. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  her  career  Rachel  proved  herself  a 
thorough  cosmopolitan ;  she  went,  she  staid,  where  she  was 
paid  most.  In  her  heart  there  appeared  to  be  no  place  for 
gratitude ;  her  idol  was  gold,  and  whenever  that  lure  was 
held  out  she  hastened  to  grasp  it,  regardless  of  all  previous 
claims  upon  her  services. 

The  result  of  this  conduct  Avas  that  the  Parisians  lost  all 
affection  for  her,  and  that,  after  every  absence,  it  required  all 


MEJIOIHS    OK    EACHKL.  85 

her  talent  and  an  extraordinary  degree  of  exertion  on  her  part 
to  reconquer  her  place.  Talma  and  Mademoiselle  Mars,  those 
darlings  of  the  Parisian  public,  never  sacrificed  their  duties  at 
the  Theatre  Franc^ais  to  any  offer  made  them  elsewhere. 
Whatever  the  advantages  to  be  reaped  abroad,  they  returned 
faithfully  at  the  appointed  time,  and  never  failed  to  show 
themselves  prouder  of  the  favor  of  the  capital  than  of  that  of 
any  potentate.  Thus  it  was  that  when,  after  every  cotigc, 
tliey  reappeared  on  the  Parisian  stage,  the  delight  of  the  au- 
dience was  manifested  in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner. 
AVhen  Rachel  reappeared  at  long  intervals  after  her  erratic 
flights  and  capricious  fits  of  sullenness,  she  was  received  with 
stern,  cold  silence. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  experienced  this  for  the  first  time  on 
her  return  to  Paris  this  year.  There  was,  moreover,  some- 
thing far  more  to  be  dreaded ;  there  was  a  rival.  The  man- 
agement, whether  to  lower  the  presumption,  and  consequently 
the  claims  of  the  reigning  star,  or  with  a  view  of  securing  a 
second  resource  in  case  the  first  should  fail,  liad  brought  out 
a  competitor.  Among  the  zealous  supporters  of  the  debutante 
was  Jules  Janin,  the  once  enthusiastic  partisan  of  Rachel. 
The  enthusiasm  which  the  new  object  of  his  admiration  ex- 
cited found  vent  in  the  most  rhapsodical  tirades  tliat  ever  fell 
from  his  pen. 

The  i-6le  attempted  by  the  daring  candidate  was  the  most 
arduous,  perhaps,  in  the  whole  classic  repertoire,  the  master- 
piece of  Racine,  one  that  Rachel  had  not  yet  dared  to  act, 
that  she  only  attempted  three  years  afterward,  and  only  suc- 
ceeded in  ten  years  later — Phldre.  In  this  god-descended  and 
goddess-cursed  queen  every  human  passion  is  carried  beyond 
human  strength  ;  she  revolves  in  a  fiery  sphere  incomprehensi- 
ble to  orderly  every-day  people.  In  that  tortured  heart  there 
is  a  turmoil  of  wild,  contradictory  elements  striving  for  the 
mastery  such  as  no  mere  earth-born  creature  could  withstand. 
Quenchless  love  and  poignant  grief,  hope  and  despair  in  their 
most  phrensied  extremes,  rend  the  stronghold  of  vitality,  till, 
weary  of  the  strife,  the  vexed  soul  rushes  into  eternity.  Yet, 
repulsive  as  woidd  seem  the  incestuous  step-dame,  the  adul- 
terous wife,  whose  perjured  breath  stirs  the  lowest  depths  of 


86  MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL. 

hell,  and  evokes  the  demons  of  murder  and  ruin,  the  great, 
the  indispensable  condition  of  the  role  is  that  our  pity  be  ex- 
cited for  this  victim  of  the  implacable  destiny  of  antiquity. 
We  are  to  forget  the  murdered  son  ;  neither  his  innocence  nor 
his  terrible  death,  to  narrate  which  the  poet  has  exhausted  the 
rich  treasures  of  his  art,  should  absorb  our  interest :  our  sym- 
pathy— our  pity  should  centre  in  the  murderess. 

This  character,  then,  w^hicli  consummate  actresses  had  spent 
years  in  learning,  and  attempted  with  fear  and  trepidation, 
was  confided  to  a  neophyte.  Of  the  efforts  made  to  sustain 
her,  the  following  is  a  proof: 

"  This  is,  indeed,  the  Phcdre  of  Racine.  The  very  sight  of 
her  reveals  the  woman  who  is  courageous,  energetic,  and  pas- 
sionate beyond  measure.  *  «  *  «  c^i^g  comes  on  the 
stage  like  a  desperate  creature  ;  nothing  dazzles,  nothing  stops 
her.  What  she  is  to  say  is  there,  in  her  head,  in  her  soul ; 
but  she  will  say  it  according  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment. 
If  she  says  it  as  she  should,  so  much  the  better.  *  *  «  * 
Mademoiselle  Maxime  has  triumphed  in  this  most  arduous 
experiment.  Her  head  is  full  of  energy,  her  look  of  anima- 
tion. She  has  a  fine  voice  that  no  exertion  wearies,  ready 
tears,  simple  and  natural  gestures.  She  does  not  play  with 
Racine's  verses  as  a  child  does  with  a  hoop ;  she  does  not  en- 
deavor to  concentrate  all  the  tragedy  in  herself,  and  exclude 
the  actor  who  plays  with  her  from  the  favor  of  the  public — 
that  favor  w^hich  is  his  sun  ;  on  the  contrary,  she  listens  well ; 
she  assists  the  efforts  of  those  around  her ;  she  does  not  de- 
claim, she  acts.  *  *  «  "\Ve  have  found  a  Phcdre  at  last. 
Go  and  see  her ;  go  and  applaud  her ;  go  and  defend  her. 
She  is  alone,  without  support,  without  coterie,  without  pro- 
tection, left  to  her  own  true  instincts,  &c.,  «&;c," 

For  some  months  Jules  Janin  endeavored  to  support  this 
rival  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  forgetting,  while  he  instituted 
comparisons  so  insulting  to  his  quondam  idol,  that  he  insulted 
his  own  former  judgments,  and  invalidated  any  future  ones 
he  might  make. 

In  October  Mademoiselle  Rachel  reappeared  in  the  role  of 
Camille.  She  was  received,  as  we  have  already  said,  Avithout 
the  slightest  token  of  favor,  and  commenced  her  part  amid 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  87 

icy  silence.  Tiie  public  seemed  to  say,  "  You  may  leave  us 
if  it  pleases  you,  but  we  may  also  forget  you.  Beware,  for 
absence  is  always  dangerous."  The  actress  bent  every  nerve 
to  the  task  of  winning  back  her  audience,  and  was  finally  re- 
called at  the  close  of  the  fourth  act,  amid  thunders  of  ap- 
plause. 

Among  the  reproaches  addressed  to  the  tragedienne,  this  re- 
entrance  at  the  close  of  the  fourth  act  to  be  applauded  by  the 
public  was  one  o£  the  most  just ;  but  it  might  be  with  equal 
reason  addressed  to  the  audience  who  permitted  so  flagrant  a 
violation  of  good  taste.  In  England  the  fifth  act  was  omit- 
ted, and  the  tragedy  ended  with  the  death  of  Camille.  The 
insult  to  the  author,  the  contempt  shown  to  the  other  actors, 
was  certainly  not  so  gross  in  this  case  as  when  the  play  was 
continued  after  the  resurrection  of  Camille.  This  resurrection 
destroys  all  illusion,  and  takes  away  all  interest  from  the  last 
act,  and  the  result  was  that  hardly  any  one  staid  to  hear  it. 
This  affords  a  farther  proof  that  the  classic  drama  is  dead  in 
France,  and  that  no  one  cares  in  reality  for  Corneille  and  Ra- 
cine. 

On  the  25th  of  October  the  performance  of  "Marie  Stuart" 
brought  the  two  rivals  before  the  public  in  the  same  play,  and 
in  characters  that  allowed  each  to  vent  openly  all  the  stifled 
rage,  indignation,  and  hatred  to  which  their  rivalry  gave  rise. 
The  foes  Avcre  brought  face  to  face,  and  a  seemingly  fair  field 
was  given  them  to  contend  for  the  favor  of  the  public.  The 
original  struggle  for  mastery  between  the  real  personages  of 
history  could  hardly  have  been  more  desperate  than  the  mod- 
ern one  between  these  two  mock  queens ;  each  put  forth  all 
the  power  that  nature  and  art  had  given  her  to  crush  the 
other  and  secure  to  herself  the  scenic  sceptre.  The  passions 
that  were  roused,  the  emotions  that  were  excited  among  their 
partisans  were,  in  a  narrow  compass,  no  less  fierce  and  vio- 
lent than  those  of  the  drama.  In  comparison  with  the  great 
contest  recorded  in  histoiy,  this,  in  truth,  was  a  tempest  in  a 
punch-bowl ;  yet  each  competitor  felt  that  her  prospects  in 
life,  her  very  existence,  was  staked  upon  the  issue. 

Every  time  poor  jNIaxime  appeared,  one  portion  of  the  house 
maintained  a  disdainful  silence,  a  tacit  condemnation  which 


88  MEMOIKS    OF    RACUET.. 

her  own  few  but  brave  partisans  retorted  to  the  full  whenever 
Raeliel  came  on.     Both  camps  anxiously  awaited  the  decisive 
third  act.     It  amply  justified  their  solicitude.     The  silence 
that  reigned  throughout  the  house  was  almost    oppressive. 
Elizabeth — Maxime — pale,  disheartened,  seeing  too  well  the 
tide  was  against  her,  feeling  instinctively  she  was  doomed, 
knowing  her  incapacity  to  resist  or  escape  the  impending  ava- 
lanche, trembled  with  impotent  rage.     Every  word  she  utter- 
ed revealed  the  bitterness  and  grief  of  her  burdened  heart. 
Marie  Stuart — Rachel — on  her  side,  passive  and  motionless, 
accepted  all  the  withering  contumely  heaped  upon  her ;  with 
bent  head,  folded  arms,  and  steady,  calm,  glittering  eye,  she 
waited — waited  patiently — but  there  was  something  so  ap- 
palling, so  deadly  in  the  look,  that  a  shudder  went  through 
the  audience  ;  every  one  felt  that  the  patience  was  that  of  the 
tiger  secure  of  his  prey,  who  has  noted  the  very  place  where 
his  fangs  will  be  thrust  into  the  quivering  flesh  of  the  victim. 
When,  at  last,  it  was  her  turn  to  speak,  the  very  ones  who 
had  expected  the  explosion  were  thunderstruck.     No  pen  can 
render   the   phrensied    passion,   the    terrific   vehemence,    the 
scorching  indignation  with  which  she  poured  forth  her  pent- 
up  fury.     Her  voice,  lately  so  weak  and  exhausted,  strength- 
ened by  her  imperious  will,  hurled  forth  anathemas  that  fell 
like  sledge-hammers  on  the  crushed  Maxime,  who,  breathless, 
amazed,  terrified  beyond  measure,  gazed  at  her  with  wild  eyes. 
The  scene  was  magnificent,  and  beggars  description.     No  one 
could  have  believed  such  meaning  could  be  given  to  the  pale, 
meagre,  wishy-washy  translation  of  Le  Brun ;  no  one  ever 
suspected  the  strength,  the  fire  contained  in  Rachel.     Her  ir- 
ritated self-love  had  developed  all  her  resources ;  she  had  at- 
tained every  perfection  save  one,  the  most  prized,  most  valu- 
able— tears.     True  tenderness,  real  feeling,  have  their  source 
in  the  heart ;  they  do  not  spring  from  self-love  and  irritated 
vanity. 

The  defeat  of  Maxime  was  too  complete  to  be  denied,  even 
by  the  critic  who  had  so  loudly  proclaimed  her  superiority ; 
but  he  palliated  his  want  of  judgment  and  softened  her  fall  by 
alleging  that  the  character  was  unsuited  to  her,  as  her  chief 
gift  was  the  power  of  expressing  feeling,  pathetic  sentiment, 


MK.MOIUS    OF    KACIIKI..  8f) 

and  the  rule  oi  Elizabeth  permitted  nothing  of  the  kind.  Had 
she  acted  Marie  Stuart,  and  liacliel  Elizabeth,  the  exit  would 
have  been  different.  There  might  certainly  have  been  a  great 
deal  of  trutli  in  saying  tliat,  had  the  rules  been  reversed,  Max- 
imo would  have  been  more  in  her  element,  and  Rachel  still  in 
her  own,  but  never  could  the  former  have  made  the  scale  in- 
cline on  her  side  when  matched  with  such  an  adversary. 

Her  triumph  cost  Blademoiselle  Rachel  an  indisposition 
that  prevented  the  repetition  of  this  exciting  scene. 

All  attempt  at  rivalry  was  at  an  end.  Mademoiselle  Max- 
ima sank  at  once  into  insignificance,  and,  although  she  re- 
mained ten  years  on  the  stage,  the  public  never  took  any  es- 
pecial notice  of  her.  She  is  now  keeping  an  hotel  garni,  Rue 
de  la  Michodiero,  in  Paris.  Phldre  lets  furnished  lodgings, 
with  board  if  required. 


CHAPTER  X. 

1842. 


The  "Cid."— The  Chimeiie  of  the  French  Stape  ;  the  Ximena  of  An- 
cient Spain  and  the  Creation  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel. — "Ariane." 
— La  Champmesle. — Mademoiselle  Clairon. — Return  to  London. — 
Disappointment. — Success  in  Belgium. — 30,000  Francs  in  eleven 
Nights. — Corneille's  Anniversary  a  Failure. — Return  to  Paris. — 
"Fredegonde." 

Three  revivals  were  presented  during  the  course  of  this 
year  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel :  the  "  Cid"  of  Pierre  Corneille, 
the  "  Ariane"  of  his  brother,  Thomas  Corneille,  and  the  "Fr'- 
degonde  et  Brunehaut"  of  Leraercier.  The  selection  of  all 
these  tragedies  could  not  have  been  more  unfortunate ;  in  the 
first  instance,  with  regard  to  the  want  of  proper  preparation 
on  the  part  of  the  actress  ;  in  the  other  instances,  with  regard 
to  the  plays  themselves. 

The  "Cid"  was  given  on  the  19th  of  January.  We  have 
said  elsewhere  that  Corneille's  female  characters  were,  with 
the  exception  of  that  of  Chimcne,  very  inferior  to  his  heroes. 
To  find  this  exquisitely  beautiful,  passionate,  and  eloquent 
maid,  this  noble  heart  divided  between  love  and  duty,  yet  nev- 


90  MEMOIRS    Of    RACHEL. 

er  for  a  moment  sacrificing  one  to  the  other,  uniting  strength 
and  gentleness,  anger  and  forgiveness,  pride  and  grief,  the  burn- 
ing love  of  a  woman,  the  thirst  for  vengeance  of  a  Castilian 
daughter — this  being,  lovely  as  she  is  terrible,  yet,  whether  in 
her  extreme  of  grief  or  her  extreme  of  rage,  commanding  re- 
spect and  admiration,  inspiring  love  and  sympathy — to  find 
this,  the  noblest  creature  ever  created  by  the  divine  breath, 
Corneille  had  to  seek  in  a  heroic  age,  in  a  land  of  chivalrj'. 
The  age  of  gallantry,  the  brilliant  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  its 
galaxy  of  lovely  dames  afforded  no  such  model. 

The  cause  of  the  quarrel  between  the  two  fathers  that  forms 
the  basis  of  the  plot  is  taken  from  the  old  ballads  of  the  "  Cid," 
the  spirit  of  which  has  been  so  faithfully  given  in  Southey's 
version. 

"In  those  days  arose  Eodrigo  of  Bivai*,  who  was  a  youth 
strong  in  arms  and  of  good  customs ;  and  the  people  rejoiced 
in  him,  for  he  bestirred  himself  to  protect  the  land  from  the 
Moors. 

"  At  this  time  it  came  to  pass  that  there  was  strife  between 
the  Lord  of  Gormaz  and  Diego  Laynez,  the  father  of  Eodrigo ; 
and  the  count  insulted  Diego  and  gave  him  a  blow.  Now 
Diego  was  a  man  in  years,  and  his  strength  had  passed  from 
him  so  that  he  could  not  take  vengeance ;  and  he  retii'ed  to 
his  house,  to  dwell  there  in  solitude  and  lament  over  his  dis- 
honor. And  he  took  no  pleasure  in  his  food,  neither  could  he 
sleep  by  night,  nor  would  he  lift  his  eyes  up  from  the  ground, 
nor  stir  out  of  his  house,  nor  commune  with  his  friends,  but 
turned  from  them  in  silence,  as  if  the  breath  of  his  dishonor 
would  taint  them.  Eodrigo  was  yet  but  a  youth,  and  the 
count  was  a  mighty  man  in  arms,  and  one  who  gave  his  voice 
first  in  the  Cortes,  and  was  held  to  be  the  best  in  war,  and  so 
powerful  that  he  had  a  thousand  friends  among  the  mount- 
ains. Howbeit,  all  these  things  appeared  as  nothing  to  Eod- 
rigo when  he  thought  of  the  wrong  done  to  his  father,  the  first 
that  had  ever  been  offered  to  the  blood  of  Lain  Calvo.  He 
asked  nothing  but  justice  of  Heaven,  and  of  man  a  fair  field  ; 
and  his  flxtlier,  seeing  of  how  good  heart  he  was,  gave  him  his 
sword  and  his  blessing.  The  sword  had  been  the  sword  of 
Mudarra  in  former  times ;   and  when  Eodrigo  felt  its  cross 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACIIKL.  91 

within  liis  hands,  he  thought  within  himself  that  his  arm  was 
not  weaker  than  Mudarra's.  And  he  went  out,  and  defied  tiie 
count,  and  slew  him,  and  smote  off"  his  head,  and  carried  it 
home  to  his  father.  The  old  man  was  sitting  at  table,  the 
food  lying  before  him  un'tastcd,  when  Kodrigo  returned,  and 
pointing  to  the  head  that  hung  from  his  horse's  collar  drop- 
ping blood,  he  bade  him  look  up,  for  there  was  the  herb  that 
would  restore  to  him  his  appetite  ;  the  tongue,  quoth  he,  which 
insulted  you,  is  no  longer  a  tongue,  and  the  hand  which  wrong- 
ed you  is  no  longer  a  band.  And  the  old  man  arose  and  em- 
braced his  son,  and  placed  him  above  him  at  the  table,  saying 
that  he  who  brought  him  that  head  should  be  the  head  of  the 
house  of  Lain  Calvo." 

Whatever  Corneille  added  to  the  original  text  was  true  to 
the  spirit,  if  not  to  the  letter,  and  in  all  points  conforming  to 
the  feelings,  customs,  and  manners  of  the  age  and  country. 
This  splendid  theme,  dressed  in  his  magnificent  poetry,  consti- 
tutes a  drama  that  has  no  equal. 

The  character  of  the  lovers,  whatever  may  have  been  said 
to  the  contrary,  has  nothing  that  is  false,  too  highly  colored, 
or  unnatural.  Their  feelings,  words,  and  actions  are  perfectly 
in  keeping  with  the  times.  A  severe  but  judicious  French 
critic  of  the  beginning  of  this  century,  GeofFroy,  cits  sadly 
when  he  criticises  the  conduct  of  Chimene,  who  repairs  to 
court  in  deep  mourning  to  demand  justice  of  the  king.  He 
says  that  neither  honor  nor  duty  required  that  a  young  girl, 
Avhose  father  had  been  killed,  should  ostentatiously  display  at 
court  her  mourning  and  her  grief,  and  loudly  demand  the  blood 
of  the  murderer.  The  king  is  aware  of  the  combat,  he  knows 
the  murderer,  he  is  wise  and  just.  Chimene  may  trust  to  him 
the  case  of  punishing  or  forgiving.  Geoffi-oy  adds  that  his  re- 
flection is  merely  in  a  moral  sense,  not  in  a  literary  one,  and 
that  what  is  extravagant  according  to  tlie  laws  of  honesty  and 
propriety  is  admirable  in  a  dramatic  and  poetic  sense;  that 
the  stranger  the  character  of  Chimene,  the  more  it  is  brilliant 
and  theati'ical. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  refute  the  opinions  of  GcoflProy  as 
to  the  light  in  which  he  considers  theatricals  and  their  object, 
but  the  opinion  of  the  conduct  of  Corneille's  heroine  proves 


92  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

that  the  celebrated  critic  has  never  given  much  time  to  the 
study  of  the  early  history  of  nations.  This  clamorous  demand 
for  vengeance,  carried  to  the  foot  of  the  throne,  in  all  the  pomp 
of  woe,  by  the  widow  and  children  of  the  murdered,  is  so  fre- 
quent in  the  annals  of  every  European  people  that  innumer- 
able instances  might  be  quoted.  One  in  much  later  times,  re- 
lated by  Monstrelet,  Avill  serve  the  present  purpose.  Speak- 
ing of  the  events  that  followed  the  murder  of  the  Duke  of  Or- 
leans, in  1407,  by  order  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  the  old 
chronicler  says : 

'•  On  the  tenth  day  of  December,  the  Duchess  of  Orleans, 
widow  to  the  late  duke,  with  her  youngest  son  John,  and  ac- 
companied by  the  late  Queen  of  England,  now  wife  to  her 
eldest  son,  set  out  for  Paris.  The  King  of  Sicily,  the  Dukes 
of  Berri  and  Bourbon,  the  Counts  of  Clermont  and  Vendfime, 
the  Lord  Charles  d'Albrct,  constable  of  France,  and  many 
other  great  lords,  Avent  out  of  the  town  to  meet  her,  attended 
by  a  number  of  people  and  horses,  and  thus  escorted  her  to 
the  Hotel  de  St.  Pol,  where  the  king  resided.  Being  instant- 
ly admitted  to  an  audience,  she  fell  on  her  knees  to  the  king, 
and  made  a  pitiful  complaint  to  him  of  the  very  inhuman  mur- 
der of  her  lord  and  husband.  The  king,  who  at  that  time 
was  in  his  sound  senses,  having  lately  recovered  from  his  ill- 
ness, raised  her  up  with  tears,  and  assured  her  he  would  com- 
ply with  all   her  request,  according  to   the   opinion   of  his 

council. 

********** 

"  On  the  Wednesday  after  St.  Thomas's  day,  the  Duchess 
of  Orleans,  accompanied  by  her  youngest  son,  the  Queen 
Dowager  of  England,  her  daughter-in-law,  the  Chancellor  of 
Orleans,  and  others  of  her  council,  and  many  of  the  knights 
and  esquires  who  had  been  of  the  household  of  the  late  duke, 
all  clothed  in  black,  came  to  the  Hotel  of  St.  Pol  to  have  an 
audience  of  the  king.  She  found  there  the  King  of  Sicily, 
the  Duke  of  Bern  and  Bourbon,  the  Chancellor  of  France, 
and  several  others,  who,  having  demanded  an  audience  for  her 
of  the  king,  instantly  obtained  it.  She  was  led  into  the  pres- 
ence by  the  Count  d'Alen(;on,  and  with  many  tears,  and  be- 
fore all  the  princes,  again  supplicated  the  king  that  lie  would 


MEMOIKS    OF    KAOilKL.  93 

do  her  justice  to  those  wlio  had  traitorously  murdered  her  lord 
and  husband,  the  late  Duke  of  Orleans. 

"Upon  this,  the  duchess,  her  son  John,  and  the  Queen 
Dowager  of  England,  her  daughter-in-law,  cast  themselves  on 
their  knees  before  the  king,  and  with  abundance  of  tears  sup- 
plicated him  to  remember  to  do  good  justice  on  the  perpetra- 
tors of  the  murder  of  his  brother." 

The  chief  merit  of  Corneille,  and  herein  he  proved  himself 
superior  even  to  Shakspeare,  was,  that  he  followed  the  model 
he  had  chosen  in  all  its  details  of  time  and  place,  and  never 
suffered  an  anachronism  to  destroy  the  scenic  illusion.  With 
heart  and  head  full  of  the  historic  and  legendary  lore  of  Spain, 
he  drew  the  portrait  of  a  fitting  mate  for  him  who,  to  this 
day,  has  remained  the  representative  of  the  extinct  virtues  of 
a  past  age — of  a  woman  worthy  to  share  the  fortunes  of  Rod- 
rigo  del  Bivar,  the  "  Cid  Canipcador." 

In  the  "  Komances  del  Cid"  we  have  a  most  accurate  pic- 
ture of  the  age.  Many  of  its  customs,  as  there  related,  may 
still  be  traced  in  remote  nooks  of  some  of  the  provinces,  where, 
alone,  alas!  some  few  vestiges  of  Spain  yet  survive.  The 
French  dramatist  made  admirable  use  of  his  rich  materials, 
giving  at  times  in  two  lines  the  true  spirit  and  full  effect  of 
the  feelings  and  sentiments  that  in  their  original  form,  howev- 
er powerful  in  their  quaint  expression,  were  inadmissible  on 
a  modern  stage.  For  instance,  when  the  insulted  old  man 
tries  the  muscles  and  courage  of  his  son,  the  whole  point  of 
the  scene  is  rendered  in  that  oft-quoted  and  splendid  passage : 

"Rodripue,  as  tu  du  coeiir? 
Tout  autre  que  mon  pere 
L'eprouverait  sur  rhcurc." 

The  remainder  of  the  scene  is  almost  literally  taken  from 
the  ballads.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  great  poet  who  did  such 
strict  justice  to  his  fine  models  did  not  bring  in  the  character- 
istic passage  of  the  ballad  wherein  Rodrigo  addresses  his  sword 
— the  sword  of  JMudarra — and  which  ends  with  the  following 
lines : 

"  Thou  hast  found,  oh  noble  sword,  a  second  master ; 
shouldst  thou  e'er  be  vanquished,  I'll  hide  the  shame  of  thy 
dishonored  blade,  even  to  the  hilt,  in  my  brcai't." 


94  ME3I0IKS    OF    RACHEL. 

Of  all  the  characters  undertaken  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel, 
this  proved  the  most  complete  failure — a  failure,  too,  which 
she  never  redeemed  by  any  after  excellence  in  it.  Nature  had 
not  unfitted  her  for  it,  but  gross  ignorance  of  the  character 
prevented  her  success.  Even  those  actresses  who  have  at- 
tained a  high  degree  of  eminence  in  their  art  have  miscon- 
ceived the  part  of  Chimcne.  They  have  invariably  presented 
a  woe-begone,  tearful  maid,  whom  filial  duty  compels  to  de- 
mand the  death  of  her  lover,  but  who  does  so  very  reluctant- 
ly, and  is  ready  to  unsay  her  words  as  soon  as  uttered.  Mod- 
ern critics  ascribed  the  failure  of  Rachel  to  the  lack  of  pathos, 
and  renewed  the  reproach  that  she  was  incapable  of  express- 
ing the  warmth  of  feeling,  the  moving  tenderness  of  a  child 
of  the  sunny  South.  Chimcne  is  no  more  a  child  of  the  South 
than  of  the  North  ;  she  is  a  being  of  an  age  and  land  known 
to  us  only  through  tradition.  Far  from  being  the  weeping, 
love-sick,  lackadaisical  creature  the  French  stage  has  always 
presented,  her  unshed  tears  fall  back  on  her  heart  in  burning 
showers.  Comeille  chose  his  heroine  among  the  Spanish 
women  of  the  olden  time,  and,  unfortunately,  Rachel  had  nev- 
er heard  of  them.  The  ancient  Romanceros  and  Cancioneros, 
the  traditions  and  legends  of  Spain,  its  history  tinged  with  the 
rainbow  hues  of  romance,  had  never  excited  her  imagination, 
accelerated  the  beat  of  her  heart,  or  brought  sympathetic  tears 
to  her  eyes.  Her  cold,  calm  pulse  had  never  throbbed  the 
faster  as  she  read  of  the  struggles  of  the  magnanimous  Castil- 
ian,  defending  his  religion,  and  reconquering,  inch  by  inch, 
the  land  of  his  fathers  from  his  no  less  noble  Moorish  foes. 
Their  deeds  of  brilliant  valor  and  devoted  patriotism  had 
found  no  responsive  echo  in  her  soul.  Yet,  without  these 
sympathetic  emotions,  the  part  of  Cliimene  or  that  of  Rodrigo 
is  impossible.  No  matter  how  remote  the  action,  the  actor 
must  identify  himself  with  the  personage.  It  may  be  doubt- 
ed, indeed,  if  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  ever  heard  of  the 
"  Cid"  before  she — we  will  not  say  learned — but  committed  to 
memory  the  role  of  his  betrothed.  She  went  blindly  to  the 
task,  without  the  slightest  idea  of  the  preparatory  studies  in- 
dispensable to  its  performance — without  the  least  conception 
of  the  motives  that  influenced  the  will  or  determined  the  ac- 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  95 

tions  of  a  high-born  Spanish  maiden  of  the  eleventh  century, 
to  whom  honor  was  the  breath  of  life.  She  was  wholly  in- 
capable of  understanding  the  soul-tortures  of  her  who  demands 
of  the  king  the  death  of  her  lover  for  the  death  of  her  father, 
even  while  her  own  bleeding  heart  acknowledges  the  justice 
of  the  deed — even  while  her  own  lips  confess  that,  had  he 
acted  otherwise,  she  would  have  scorned  the  craven !  Yet, 
of  these  terrible  sacrifices  of  the  dearest  aiFections  to  the  inex- 
orable laws  of  honor,  instances  are  frequent  in  the  annals  of 
Spain.  Mrs.  Hemans  chose  a  still  more  fearful  one  as  the 
theme  of  her  "Siege  of  Valencia,"  a  father  dooming  his  two 
innocent  sons  to  death  rather  than  give  up  to  the  besiegers 
the  town  his  king  had  intrusted  to  him. 

To  understand  that  the  customs  of  the  age  made  it  highly 
honorable  for  Chimcne  to  forego  her  vengeance  subsequently, 
and  become  the  wife  of  him  v/ho  had  killed  her  father,  Rachel 
should  have  read  the  ballad : 

"Mate  h,  tu  padre  Ximena, 
Pero  no  d  desaquisado, 
Matele  de  hombre  a  hombre 
Para  vengar  cierto  agravio, 
Mate  hombre  y  hombre  doy, 
Aquiestoy  a  tu  mandado, 
Yen  Uigar  del  muerto  padre 
Cobraste  marido  honrado." 

"  I  killed  thy  father,  Ximena,  but  not  in  treacherous  wise. 
I  killed  him  man  to  man,  to  avenge  a  certain  grief.  I  killed 
a  man,  a  man  I  give.  Therefore  stand  I  at  thy  command, 
and  for  thy  father  dead,  an  honored  husband  offer." 

li  Chimcne  is  right  in  demanding  her  lover's  life  for  her  fa- 
ther's, she  is  also  justified  in  forgiving  him.  Eodrigo  offers 
her,  in  accordance  with  the  customs  of  the  age,  the  blood  of 
conquered  Moors  in  expiation  of  her  father's. 

Eachel  had  neither  the  gait,  the  look,  nor  the  voice  of  her 
who  boldly  reminds  her  sovereign  that 

"Key  que  no  haste  justicia 
Non  debia  de  reinarc, 
Ni  cabalgar  en  caballo 
Ni  espucla  de  oro  calzare." 


96  MK.MOIKS    OF    KAOHEL. 

"Tlie  king  that  grants  not  justice  deserveth  not  to  reign, 
nor  should  he  steed  bestride,  nor  wear  a  golden  spur." 

Yet  who  better  than  Rachel  could  have  uttered  the  com- 
manding appeal  of  the  spirited  daughter  of  Count  Gormaz  ? 

Even  for  her  dress  Rachel  would  have  done  well  to  have 
consulted  the  costumes  of  the  eleventh  century,  so  minutely 
described  in  those  same  old  ballads.  Her  attire,  especially 
the  pink  gown  of  the  first  act,  would  not  have  presented  so 
pitiful  an  anachronism. 

The  result  of  all  this  ignorance  and  presumption  was  that, 
at  the  finest  passage  of  the  rok,  a  noisy  and  energetic  protest, 
mingled  with  hisses,  greeted  the  injudicious  applause  with 
which  her  partisans  endeavored  to  sustain  the  actress.  A 
dead  silence  succeeded. 

Thus  once  more  fell  the  play  that  has  done  so  much  honor 
to  Corneille,  the  master-piece,  the  original  success  of  which 
so  nettled  the  jealousy  of  the  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  that,  ac- 
cording to  Fontenelle,  he  loould  rather  have  seen  the  Spaniards 
at  the  gates  of  Paris.  Mademoiselle  Rachel  might,  with  good 
reason,  have  said  Med  cuIjmI,  med  maximd  culpa.  She  had 
acted  neither  the  traditional  Chimbie  of  the  French  stage,  nor 
the  chivalrous  Ximena  of  the  Spanish  legends ;  she  had  pre- 
sented a  pale,  wishy-washy  nondescript  no  modern  public 
would  accept,  and  which  the  Cid  certainly  never  would  have 
recognized. 

The  "  Ariane"  of  Thomas  Corneille  was  revived  oti  the  7th 
of  May.  No  two  dramas  could  differ  more  essentially  than 
did  the  one  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  so  lately  failed  in  and 
this  one.  "  Ariane"  is  as  dull,  as  stupid,  as  full  of  improba- 
ble actions  and  impossible  situations,  as  replete  with  lame, 
halting,  hollow,  vapid,  wretched  poetry,  without  rhyme,  and, 
certes,  without  reason,  and  as  full  of  grammatical  errors,  as 
the  "  Cid"  is  interesting,  energetic,  natural,  and  full  of  mag- 
nificent passages. 

This  dull,  insipid  elegy  contains  nothing  heroic,  noble,  or 
dramatic.  The  desertion  of  Theseus  is  almost  justified  by  the 
contempt  we  feel  for  the  heroine,  than  whom  a  more  unwor- 
thy was  never  chosen  by  an  author.  The  little  interest  there 
is  is  concentrated  in  Ariadne,  but  the  very  few  fine  passages 


ME5IOIKS    OF    KACHEr,,  97 

can  not  compensate  the  monotony  of  her  long  lamentations  or 
the  insignificance  of  the  other  dramatis  personce.  Tiie  play 
was  indebted  for  its  success,  when  first  brought  out  in  1672, 
to  the  celebrated  Mademoiselle  de  Champmeste,  who  played 
the  part  o^Ariad/ie.  Of  this  actress  and  of  the  tragedy  Mad- 
ame de  Sevigne  has  left  us  the  following  opinion : 

"La  Champmeste  is  something  so  extraordinary  that  in 
your  life  you  never  saw  her  equal ;  it  is  the  actress  we  seek, 
and  not  the  play.  I  have  seen  'Ariane'  for  the  sake  of  La 
Champmeste  only.  The  play  is  insipid,  the  players  wretched ; 
but  when  La  Champmeste  comes  in  a  murmur  is  heard,  every 
body  is  in  raptures ;  her  despair  makes  every  one  weep." 

This  charming  actress,  among  whose  devoted  admirers  were 
the  greatest  poets  of  her  time — this  idol,  to  whom  La  Fontaine 
dedicated  his  tale  of  "  Belphegor,"  and  whom  he  praised  in 
lines  such  as  he  alone  could  write — for  whom  Racine  wrote 
several  of  his  master-pieces — La  Champmeste  had  neither  ed- 
ucation nor  natural  wit.  Perhaps  with  her  illustrious  friends 
this  ignorance  may  not  have  been  the  least  of  her  attractions. 
Having  inquired  of  Racine  whence  he  had  taken  the  subject 
of  "  Athalie,"  he  answered,  from  the  "  Old  Testament." 
"You  had  better  have  taken  it  from  the  'New,'"  said  she; 
"it  would  have  been  more  fashionable." 

She  remained  on  the  stage,  exciting  admiration  and  enthu- 
siasm, to  her  death,  at  the  age  of  fifty-seven,  in  1698.  Short- 
ly befox'e  she  died,  some  one  attempting  to  bring  her  mind  to 
the  serious  contemplation  of  the  future  state  she  was  about 
entering,  she  replied,  "  Oh,  well,  well,  if  Paradise  be  so  pleas- 
ant a  place,  there  is,  no  doubt,  a  theatre,  and  in  tliat  case  God 
the  Father  will  not  be  sorry  to  see  me  make  my  debut  there." 

A  centftry  later,  another  stage  celebrity.  Mademoiselle  Clai- 
ron,  endeavored  to  reconcile  the  forsakeu  Ariadne  with  the  pub- 
lic ;  with  what  success  may  be  judged  by  the  reply  the  actress 
made  to  a  lord  of  the  bedchamber  who  was  complaining  that 
the  curtain  was  allowed  to  fall  at  the  fourth  act :  "  3Ia  foi, 
monseigneur,"  said  she,  "  I  would  like  to  see  what  sort  of 
countenance  you  would  have  in  the  fifth  act  if  you  had  been 
hissed  without  cessation  during  the  preceding  ones."  Yet 
Mademoiselle  Clairon  was  beautiful,  and  not  only  talented  in 

E 


98  MEMOmS    OF    RACHEL. 

her  profession,  but  of  excellent  and  well-cultivated  intellect. 
Of  the  effect  she  produced  in  even  so  poor  a  part  the  follow- 
ing anecdote  is  told. 

She  was  speaking  the  passage  in  which  Ariadne,  in  doubt  as 
to  who  is  the  rival  that  has  robbed  her  of  Theseu^  heart,  says, 

"Est  ce  Megiste  Egle  qui  le  rend  infidele?" 
when  a  man  from  the  pit  loudly  exclaimed,  "  It's  Phedre  ;  it's 

that of  a  Phedre."     Though  course  in  its  expression, 

this  confirmation  of  the  illusion  her  acting  produced  was  not 
a  little  gratifying  to  the  actress. 

What  her  predecessors  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries  had  failed  in  accomplishing.  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
was  not  more  fortunate  in  achieving  in  the  nineteenth. 

Yet,  with  all  its  defects,  the  tragedy  of  Thomas  Corneille 
offered  in  the  subject  so  great  an  analogy  with  the  "Andro- 
maque"  of  Eacine,  that  the  actress  whose  most  successful  role 
had  always  been  the  part  of  Hermione,  found  herself  at  home 
in  that  oi  Ariadne.  A  critic  of  the  day  remai'ked  that  her 
slight  figure,  her  pale  brow,  her  deep-set  black  eyes,  her  nerv- 
ous, feverish  demeanor,  her  small  head,  reminding  the  specta- 
tor of  that  of  a  viper  standing'erect  on  its  tail,  her  bitter  smile, 
her  nostrils  swollen  with  disdain,  her  ferocity  of  tone  and  her 
explosions  of  rage,  bore  certainly  no  resemblance  to  the  Mel- 
pomene of  antiquity,  that  grand  and  noble  figure  whose  beau- 
ty no  excess  of  grief  can  alter,  and  who,  even  as  she  falls  stab- 
bed to  the  heart,  is  mindful  of  the  graceful  folds  of  hei:  tunic, 
even  in  the  last  convulsion  of  her  agony.  Yet  all  these  dis- 
tinguishing characteristics  contributed  only  to  the  partial  suc- 
cess of  the  forsaken  bride  of  Theseus.  Mademoiselle  Eacliel 
did  her  utmost  to  sustain  the  play,  and  it  certainly  required 
all  her  talent  and  the  greatest  exertions  to  make  it  acceptable. 
The  selection  of  this  wretched  piece  was  very  unfortunate,  and 
it  will  be  seen  that  her  next  revival  was  no  less  so. 

With  "  Ariane"  closed  the  Parisian  season  of  1842,  and  in 
July  Mademoiselle  Rachel  hastened  back  to  London,  where 
she  hoped  for  triumphs  that  would  compensate  the  decrease 
of  her  popularity  at  home.  But  some  little  matters  had  come 
to  light  since  her  last  trip  that  had  greatly  lessened  the  es- 
teem in  which  she  was  once  held  there ;  the  novelty,  too,  was 


MKMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  99 

gone,  the  enthusiasm  had  gone  down  somewhat,  and,  to  INIadc- 
moiselle  Rachel's  great  disappointment,  she  found  her  star  pale 
before  the  two  planets,  Boutfe  and  Dejazet,  who  in  succession 
crossed  the  Channel  this  year. 

Rather  disgusted  with  the  fickleness  of  her  English  public, 
and  annoyed  that  she  should  have  to  share  the  favor  she  had 
hitherto  enjoyed  alone,  Rachel  soon  left  for  Antwerp,  where 
she  arrived  on  the  17th  of  July. 

The  most  brilliant  success  attained  by  Rachel  was  that  she 
had  this  year  in  Brussels.  The  first  night  the  house  brouo-ht 
in  7500  francs ;  the  second,  8300  francs.  Total,  15,800  francs 
in  two  evenings. 

The  following  table  will  show  how  great  were  the  pecuni- 
ary advantages  IMademoiselle  Rachel  derived  from  her  conges. 

She  arrived  in  Brussels  on  the  evening  of  the  18th  of  July, 
and  left  that  city  to  return  to  Paris  on  the  31st  of  August. 
In  that  time  she  performed  twelve  nights.  These  twelve 
nights  put  more  than  30,000  francs  in  the  pocket  of  the  cele- 
brated actress.  With  the  addition  of  three  scenes  performed 
in  Ghent  on  the  24th  of  August,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  forty- 
four  days  she  spent  in  Belgium  averaged  more  than  800  francs 
eaclij  or,  counting  only  the  twelve  nights  she  played,  each  per- 
formance brought  her  in  2500  francs. 

The  Theatre  Fran^ais  undertook  to  celebrate  this  year  the 
annivcrsaiy  of  Corneille's  birth.  The  plays  given  were  "  Le 
Cid"  and  "  Le  Menteur."  The  bust  of  Corneille  was  crowned 
on  the  stage.  The  fete  might  be  called  a  family  one  ;  as  the 
name  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  not  on  the  bills,  the  public, 
who  cared  for  the  great  master  only  when  he  was  interpreted 
by  her,  kept  away,  and  the  receipts  did  not  exceed  500  francs ! 
AVhen  Mademoiselle  Mars  retired,  the  admirers  of  Moliere 
mourned  his  master-pieces  as  forever  exiled  from  the  stage. 
At  the  death  of  Talma,  Corneille  and  Racine  became  forjiot- 
ten  gods  until  the  fire  was  rekindled  on  their  altars  by  Made- 
moiselle Rachel.  On  the  sixth  of  June  this  year,  the  young 
priestess  had  carried  her  gods  and  their  worship  elsewhere,  and 
the  Parisians  did  not  even  notice  that  this  celebration  of  Cor- 
neille's birth-day  was  a  novelty.  The  following  year,  when 
the  day  came,  she  was  in  Rouen,  and  the  Theatre  Fran^ais 


100  MEMOIKS    OF  KACHEL. 

refrained  from  attempting  to  show  to  the  memory  of  Corneille 
a  homage  that  in  that  deserted  house  was  equivalent  to  an 
insult.  It  was  not  until  the  year  1844,  when  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  was  in  Paris,  that  the  celebration  of  this  day  was  reg- 
ularly instituted. 

The  reappearance  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  September 
was  effected  very  quietly,  without  any  of  the  usual  attempts 
to  insure  a  brilliant  reception.  Her  friends  argued  very  judi- 
ciously that  these  efforts  should  be  reserved  for  the  cases  in 
which  they  were  really  necessary,  but  that  in  the  present  one 
the  fame  the  actress  had  acquired  abroad  heralded  with  suffi- 
cient eclat  her  appearance  at  home.  _  Whenever  signs  of  cool- 
ness were  visible  on  the  Parisian  horizon,  the  tongues  of  rumor 
were  set  to  work  to  excite  a  new  sensation ;  puffs,  bulletins, 
private  correspondence  published  for  the  benefit  of  the  public, 
«fec.,  &c.,  all  the  resources  of  the  art  of  getting  up  an  excite- 
ment, were  made  use  of. 

The  tragedy  of  "  Fredegonde  et  Brunehaut"  of  Mr.  Lemer- 
cier  was  announced  as  being  in  rehearsal,  and  excited  great 
expectations  from  the  opinion  then  prevailing  that  the  role  of 
Fredegonde  was  particularly  well  adapted  to  Rachel's  powers. 
This  was  a  gi-eat  mistake.  Rachel  had  been  all  her  life  the 
organ  of  the  great  classic  poets ;  accustomed  to  the  majesty, 
the  measured  dignity,  the  pomp  and  grandeur  of  the  sonorous 
Alexandrine,  her  clear,  distinct  enunciation  brought  out  every 
beauty  in  bold  relief,  but,  unfortunately,  it  did  the  same  with 
every  fault.  She  had  not  acquired  the  art  of  disguising  er- 
rors, strengthening  weak  points,  and  gliding  over  unpardona- 
ble ones,  of  concealing  under  the  warmth  and  vivacity  of  de- 
livery the  meagreness  of  the  author's  style.  The  wretched 
poeti'y  of  "  Fredegonde"  was  absolutely  unbearable  uttered  by 
the  lips  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel ;  and  this  attempted  resurrec- 
tion added  a  third  failure  to  the  unfortunate  experiments  of 
this  year.  Yet  the  subject  of  this  tragedy  was  one  that  offer- 
ed abundant  materials  to  a  clever  pen.  Modern  authors  con- 
tinue to  seek  in  the  worn  annals  of  Greece  and  Rome  their 
plot  and  dramatis  persona;,  neglecting  the  inexhaustible  stores 
the  history  of  their  own  country  affords ;  and  when  they  do 
attempt  any  one  of  its  fertile  subjects,  there  seems  to  be  a  fa- 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  101 

tality  attached  to  them — the  execution  is  so  poor,  the  poetical 
garb  so  mean,  the  accessories  introduced  are  in  such  bad  taste, 
that  they  manage  to  despoil  the  theme  of  every  original  beau- 
ty. "  Fredegonde  et  Brunehaut,"  "  Jeanne  d'Arc,"  and  oth- 
ers, have  been  proofs  of  this. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

1843. 


First  Step  in  Life  as  a  Free  "Woman. — A  Portrait  au  moral  et  au  phys- 
ique.— Corroboratory  Anecdotes. — Mademoiselle  Aveiiel. — The  Cash- 
box. — The  Fascination  of  Gold  on  different  Minds. — Making  Collec- 
tions.— Expensive  Fancies. — The  Guitar. 

It  was  in  the  Rue  de  Luxembourg  that  the  long-looked-for 
hour  of  Rachel's  majority  at  last  da\\Tied.  The  first  use  she 
made  of  her  enfranchisement  was  to  loosen  the  paternal  gripe 
that  had  hitherto  been  fastened  on  her  earnings.  There  was 
good  reason  for  her  impatience  in  this  instance.  Though  her 
talent  and  constant  and  fatiguing  exertions  had  raised  the  fam- 
ily to  a  position  which,  compared  with  the  one  they  previous- 
ly held,  was  very  brilliant ;  though  her  younger  sisters  and 
her  brother  were  being  educated  at  her  expense,  and  though 
her  money  clothed,  housed,  and  fed  them  all,  the  old  man  al- 
lowed her  out  of  her  handsome  salary  but  300  francs  per 
month  for  her  dress,  theatrical  costumes,  and  pocket-money ! 
The  sum  was  altogether  inadequate  to  her  requirements,  and 
this  grievance  had  occasioned  frequent  bickerings,  all  to  no 
avail,  until  the  day  arrived  when  the  father  knew  he  had  no 
legal  right  to  dispose  of  his  daughter's  property.  Even  then 
there  was  a  violent  quarrel  on  the  subject,  and  the  upshot  was 
that  Rachel  marched  out  of  the  house,  taking  nothing  but 
what  she  had  on,  and  installed  herself  in  an  apartment  on  the 
Quai  Voltaire,  which  she  furnished  handsomely,  leaving  to  her 
parents  all  the  furniture  of  that  of  the  Rue  de  Luxembourg. 

The  decisive  step  Raehel  had  taken  was  attributed  by  the 
family  to  the  advice  of  a  male  friend  whose  influence  was  then 
\Qvj  great  with  her,  and,  fearful  that  this  influence  might  be 
extended  still  farther  to  their  prejudice,  they  took  an  early 


102  ME310IES    OF   KACHEL. 

opportunity  to  break  the  friendly  tie.  Surrounded  as  she  was, 
this  was  no  difficult  matter ;  vanity  and  love  of  conquest  on 
one  side,  jealousy  on  the  other,  afforded  excellent  grounds,  and 
the  friends  parted  to  meet  no  more  for  ten  years,  when  they 
met  again  under  peculiarly  sad  circumstances,  each  havin"f 
been  recently  bereaved  of  a  most  dear  friend. 

Though  the  scene  of  separation  from  her  relatives  had  been 
very  violent,  the  reconciliation  was  soon  effected.  The  fugi- 
tive was  too  valuable  a  member  of  the  family  for  any  rupture 
to  be  of  long  duration.  Rachel,  too,  was  never  unkind  to  her 
parents.  Whatever  were  the  faults  of  her  race,  nature,  or 
education  —  whatever  errors  she  may  have  fallen  into,  her 
generosity  toward  all  the  members  of  her  family,  pai-ticularly 
toward  her  father  and  mother,  has  been  unceasinjr.  She  left 
them  all  the  apartment  they  lived  in  contained,  and  gave  her 
father  a  pension  of  12,000  francs,  and  to  her  mother,  for  her 
private  use,  one  of  4000  francs :  these  sums  were  paid  yearly 
T\dth  great  regularity.  Besides  these  pensions,  she  was  al- 
ways lavish  of  gifts  to  all  the  members  of  her  famil}'-,  repeat- 
edly paying  the  debts  of  her  elder  sister,  and  constantly  exert- 
ing her  influence  to  obtain  engagements  and  high  salaries  for 
her  brother  and  sisters. 

But,  though  an  excellent  daughter  and  kind  sister,  she  did 
not  manifest  her  affection  in  so  romantic  a  manner  as  the 
newspaper  anecdotes  would  have  it  believed.  A  very  aflfect- 
ing  trait  of  sisterly  solicitude,  in  which  Eachel  was  made  to 
play  the  part  of  the  beneficent  fairy  in  the  story-books,  was 
published  lately.     The  tale  ran  as  follows : 

Rachel  and  Rebecca  Avere  playing  Tkle  and  Catarina  in 
"Angelo."  Delighted  with  Rebecca's  success,  Rachel  hired  a 
handsome  apartment,  furnished  it  suitably,  omitting  nothing, 
from  the  house-linen  in  the  clothes-press  to  the  wine,  wood, 
and  <;oals,  with  which  the  cellars  were  well  stocked.  AVhen  all 
was  in  readiness,  one  night  after  the  play  she  took  her  sister 
to  see  her  new  domain,  saying,  as  she  placed  the  key — not 
Aiigeld's — in  Catarina: s  hand, 

"  My  dear,  you  have  played  like  an  angel,  and  I  have  pro- 
vided your  reward  ;  all  this  is  yours." 

This  delightful  little  surprise,  got  up  at  a  cost  of  15,000 


MEMOIRS    OP    RACHEL.  103 

francs,  properly  enhanced  by  the  description  of  the  joy  of  the 
younger  sister,  the  aflccting  embrace,  the  emotion  of  friends 
witnessing  the  pathetic  scene,  and  the  excellence  of  the  supper 
that  was  the  finale — for  even  that  had  been  provided  by  the 
provident  donor — constituted  a  pretty  little  episode  for  the 
biography  of  liachel,  to  which  only  one  objection  could  be 
made — its  lack  of  truth.  "Whatever  might  be  the  affection  of 
the  tragedienne  for  this  sister,  it  never  led  her  to  such  a  dem- 
onstration. When  Eebecca  died  she  had  not  finished  paying 
for  the  furniture  which  she  had  herself  purchased  for  her 
apartment ;  she  was,  moreover,  so  much  in  debt  that  the  fam- 
ily made  no  claim  to  what  she  left,  lest  they  should  have  to 
pay  the  creditors,  for  whose  benefit,  therefore,  every  thing  was 
sold  at  auction. 

All  the  Felixes  have  been  accustomed  to  look  to  Rachel, 
and  with  good  reason,  as  their  main  stay  and  support.  They 
repay  and  keep  up  the  fiow  of  generosity  by  a  continual  ado- 
ration of  tlie  idol  that  sometimes  takes  the  most  ludicrous 
forms.  When  she  plays,  the  mother  and  sisters  go  off  into 
ecstasies  of  delight,  clapping  their  hands,  citing  out  Brava ! 
bravissima!  vociferating  "  Was  ever  the  like  seen!  She  is 
an  angel!  Adorable!  divine!"  &c.,  and  ending  the  farce  by 
throwing  their  ready-prepared  bouquets  on  the  stage.  It  re- 
quires the  really  extraordinaiy  talent  of  Rachel  to  make  man- 
agers tolerate  these  silly  scenes.  But  Rachel  has  reigned  su- 
preme and  despotic  behind  the  curtain  throughout  her  career. 
From  the  manager  to  the  fireman  and  scene-shifter,  all  have 
been  the  cringing  slaves  of  her  will,  dreading  her  frown,  dis- 
puting her  smiles,  attentive  to  her  slightest  wish.  At  the 
Theatre  Frantjais,  king  or  emperor,  even  the  government  that 
supports  it,  none  have  the  regal  despotic  power  exercised  there 
by  Rachel.  At  the  hour  for  the  curtain  to  rise  a  respectful 
knock  is  heard  at  the  door,  followed  by  the  words,  "  Is  mad- 
ame  quite  ready"?  Will  madame  have  the  goodness  to  say 
when  the  signal  shall  be  given."  The  answer  is,  "  In  ten  or 
fifteen  minutes — presently — noiv"  &c.,  as  she  pleases;  no  one 
else  is  consulted,  though  all  the  other  actors  arc  bound  to  hold 
themselves  in  readiness  at  the  hour.  Her  word  was  law.  As 
to  authors,  we  will  not  shame  the  world  of  belles-lettres  by 


104  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

mentioning  the  degree  of  base  servility  to  wliicli  some  of  the 
illustrious  of  modern  literature  have  unblushingly  stooped  to 
please  this  queen  of  the  buskin.  The  acts  of  injustice  done 
to  other  actors  and  actresses  to  make  room  for  some  very  in- 
ferior talent,  merely  because  its  possessor  bore  the  name  of 
Felix,  are  recorded  in  the  memory  of  many  a  poor  sufferer. 
The  advancement,  the  interest  of  her  own  family  were  sought 
without  regard  to  any  considerations  of  equity  or  even  grati- 
tude. A  flagrant  instance  of  this  occurred  in  the  case  of  a 
very  charming  and  deserving  actress,  who  personated  with 
remarkable  talent  the  suivantes  of  Moliere.  Mademoiselle 
Aveuel  had  consented  to  accompany  Rachel  on  several  of  her 
foreign  tours,  and  had  proved  one  of  the  most  efficient  mem- 
bers of  her  company.  But  absence,  especially  in  the  position 
of  Mademoiselle  Aveuel,  is  always  dangerous.  On  her  return 
she  found  herself  without  any  engagement.  jMademoiselle 
Rachel  immediately  proffered  her  powerful  influence,  and  per- 
suaded her  to  take  no  steps  whatever,  as  she  took  it  upon  her- 
self to  obtain  the  engagement  at  the  Theatre  Frangais.  She 
appointed  an  hdftr  for  Mademoiselle  Aveuel  to  call  upon  the 
manager,  saying  she  would  have  the  whole  thing  settled  by 
that  time.  Rachel  kept  her  word  ;  when  Mademoiselle  Aveu- 
el, punctual  to  a  minute,  was  wending  her  way  to  the  man- 
ager's office,  she  met  Sarah,  who  was  leaving  it,  and  who  in- 
formed her  with  gi'eat  glee  that  she  had  just  signed  a  very  ad- 
vantageous engagement  that  her  sister  had  procured  for  her. 
Poor  Mademoiselle  Aveuel's  heart  sank  at  this  communica- 
tion, but  she  went  in  notwithstanding.  The  thing  was  too 
true :  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  obtained  the  contract — for 
her  sister.  The  victim  had  unfortunately  no  protection,  no 
means  of  advancement. 

A  few  words  are  due  here  to  this  charming  actress,  whose 
pure  mind  and  strict  principles  contributed  as  much  as  her 
real  talent  to  make  her  an  honor  to  her  profession.  Aline 
Aveuel,  who  had  entered  the  Conseifatoire  about  the  same 
time  as  the  tragedienne,  made  her  debut  in  1839,  and  obtained 
great  success  in  another  line  of  the  dramatic  art.  She  was 
one  of  the  best  representatives  of  Moliere's  soubrettes  that  had 
been  seen  for  many  years  on  the  boards  of  the  Theatre  Fran- 


MEMOIRS   OF    EACHEL.  105 

(jais.  An  indefatigable  and  conscientious  stvident  of  the  art 
she  professed,  she  studied  it  con  amove.  Her  firm,  distinct, 
and  correct  diction,  the  discrimination,  good  taste,  and  expres- 
sion of  her  pantomime,  her  bright,  lively  eyes,  clear-toned, 
pleasant  voice,  fitted  her  admirably  for  the  characters  of  the 
JVicoles,  Dorines,  and  Marinettes,  those  malapert  and  piquant 
match-makers  and  match-marrers,  always  helping  miss  to 
frustrate  papa's  wise  plans,  and  themselves  the  darlings  of  the 
laughter-loving  public.  Mademoiselle  Aveuel  subsequently 
quitted  the  Theatre  Frant^ais  for  reasons  it  is  not  our  prov- 
ince to  explain,  and  accompanied  JMaderaoiselle  Eachel  in 
many  of  her  professional  excursions  into  England,  Germany, 
and  Italy,  taking  an  altogether  different  branch  to  that  she 
had  hitherto  performed  in,  but  one  in  which  she  proved  her- 
self possessed  of  no  little  ability.  Her  fine  form  and  com- 
manding figure,  that  w^ere  rather  objections  in  the  role  of  the 
dapper  little  souhrette,  gave  admirable  relief  to  those  of  the 
proud  Duchess  de  Bouillon  in  "  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,"  and 
of  the  Countess  in  "  Lady  Tartufle." 

The  sterling  qualities  of  Mademoiselle  Aveuel,  the  unswerv- 
ing rectitude  of  her  conduct,  had  opened  before  her  the  doors 
of  some  of  the  most  aristocratic  salons  in  Paris.  But  no  suc- 
cess in  private  life  could  fill  the  void  left  in  her  heart  by  the 
loss  of  her  professional  career.  She  passionately  loved  her 
art,  and  the  hopes  so  long  deferred,  the  sickening  disappoint- 
ments she  suffered  in  attempting  to  regain  the  pldce  she  had 
lost,  contributed  no  little  to  hasten  her  death,  which  took 
place  on  the  26th  of  April,  1857. 

Of  all  the  sisters,  Rachel  is  considered  to  have  been  the 
only  one  capable  of  acting  to  the  life  that  most  difficult  of  all 
parts  for  the  parvenu,  the  role  of  a  gentlewoman.  There  was 
a  dignity  de  grande  dame  about  her,  an  ease  and  grace  that 
procured  her  as  much  admiration  as  her  talent.  She  entered 
the  splendid  aristocratic  sphere  into  which  her  successful  debuts 
had  obtained  admittance  for  her  without  manifesting  vanity 
or  surprise ;  she  seemed  literally  to  the  manner  born,  and  ac- 
cepted the  favors  of  fortune  as  her  due.  There  was  a  witch- 
ery about  her  that  bafHes  description.  Her  very  worst  ene- 
mies, persons  whom  she  has  the  most  deeply  wronged,  acknowl- 

E2 


106  JVIEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

ege  this  fascination,  and  say  it  was  impossible  to  come  within 
the  sphere  of  her  influence  without  being  Avon  and  completely 
subdued,  if  she  chose  to  will  it.  In  fact,  very  little  outward 
change  had  taken  place  in  her  since  she  wore  the  little  calico 
frock  and  trowsers  at  the  Cours  of  St.  Aulaire,  save  that  she 
had  grown  and  was  better  dressed.  The  same  calm,  grave 
expression  of  face,  and,  it  must  be  owned,  something  of  the 
elf  tricks  and  capricious  temper  remained.  She  has  frequent- 
ly been  known  to  ask  some  of  her  young  friends  to  dine  or 
take  tea  with  her;  when  the  guest  arrived  the  hostess  was 
gone  out.  When  reproached  with  her  uncivil  conduct,  she 
would  make  some  plausible  excuse,  appoint  another  day,  and 
renew  her  breach  of  word.  Exceedingly  courteous  and  kind- 
ly in  manner,  if  any  thing  belonging  to  her  appeared  to  please 
her  visitor,  her  first  impulse  was  to  offer  it,  to  press  it  urgent- 
ly on  the  acceptance  of  the  person  who  admired  it.  If  any 
hesitation  was  shown,  she  threatened  to  send  it  home  to  her 
friend.  If  the  gift  so  persistingly  offered  was  accepted,  Ra- 
chel's Jew  nature  regained  the  ascendency.  She  repented  her 
prodigal  generosity ;  the  bauble  she  had  bestowed  became  an 
indispensable  necessity,  just  the  thing  she  could  not  do  with- 
out, and  she  had  no  rest  till  she  had  sent  to  request  it  to  be 
returned ! 

At  times  she  met  with  some  resistance  in  this  particular. 
Obstinate  people  took  her  at  her  word,  and  made  her  give 
what  she  had  promised,  or  they  kept  what  she  had  given  them. 
She  had  a  way  of  saying,  if  any  jewel  she  wore,  or  article  of 
virtu  in  her  rooms  was  admired,  "  I  wish  I  could  offer  this  to 

you,  but  it  was  a  present  from  the  Prince  of or  the  Duke 

of ,  and  I  can  not ;  you  shall,  however,  have  one  just  like 

it ;  I  know  where  to  get  the  mate,  and  you  will  give  me  great 
pleasure  by  your  acceptance.  Oh,  you  shall,  I  insist  upon  it ; 
you  would  not  disoblige  me,  &c.,  &c.,  &c."  This  generally 
took  place  before  a  number  of  persons,  and,  as  the  promised 
present  was  usually  of  value,  conveyed  a  high  opinion  of  her 
generosity  to  those  who  did  not  know  her,  while  it  was  veiy 
annoying  to  those  who  did,  and  were  considered  the  recipients 
of  these  generous  gifts. 

She  one  day  said  to  a  friejid  who  was  admiring  a  very  beau- 


MEMOIRS    OF    KACIIEL.  107 

tifuUy-carved  and  embroidered  chair,  "  I  am  glad  you  like  it : 
it  is  my  work,  and  you  shall  have  it  to  remember  me." 

"You  give  it  to  mc,  then*?" 

"  Cei'tainly,  and  I  shall  have  it  sent  to  your  rooms." 

"  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you,  and  shall  not  trouble 
you  to  send  it,  but,  since  you  are  so  good  as  to  give  it  me,  shall 
take  it  now." 

Kachel  laughed ;  it  was  not  an  article  he  could  put  in  his 
pocket.  But  the  friend  knew  her,  and  was  resolved  not  to  be 
fooled.  He  ran  down  stairs  and  was  back  again  in  a  moment 
with  a  commissionaire,  who  bore  off  the  prize. 

To  Leon  de  Beauvallet  she  gave  a  sabre  of  fine  Turkish 
Avoi'kraanship.  "  She  can  not  ask  to  have  it  back,"  said  he, 
"  for  I  have  had  a  chain  put  to  it." 

The  anecdotes  told  of  her  ostentatious  generosity  without 
expense  to  herself  are  very  numerous,  but  not  all  very  reha- 
ble  ;  for  the  truth  of  the  following  we  do  not  pretend  to  vouch. 

In  1853,  Marguet,  formerly  a  Suisse  in  the  service  of  Louis 
Philippe,  but  who  had  subsequently  been  long  attached  to  the 
Theatre  Fran(;ais  in  the  humble  capacity  of  call-boy,  retired. 
As  he  was  universally  liked,  the  sociciaircs  subscribed  20  francs 
each  to  buy  him  a  snuff-box.  Mademoiselle  Eachel  undertook 
the  purchase,  and  had  the  following  inscription  engraved  on 
the  lid :   "  Mademoiselle  Eachel  a  Marguet." 

There  was  a  constant  struggle  in  her,  nature  and  early  hab- 
its of  parsimony  being  ever  at  variance  with  the  wish  to  be 
thought  generous,  with  the  love  of  ostentation.  These  con- 
flicting impulses  frequently  led  to  a  betrayal  of  feelings  the 
very  reverse  of  Avhat  she  intended  to  exhibit.  The  story  of 
the  pine-apple  will  give  some  idea  of  this  apparent  inconsist- 
ency. Having  occasion  to  give  a  dinner  to  a  number  of  em- 
inent personages,  she  ordered  her  desert  at  Chevet's.  Among 
the  expensive  hot-house  fruit  selected  was  a  pine-apple.  At 
this  epoch — 1848 — so  few  dinners  were  given  that  it  was 
scarcely  worth  while  to  import  this  tropical  fruit ;  it  was  con- 
sequently rare  and  dear.  Rather  than  give  the  exorbitant 
price  asked — 70  francs — for  the  one  she  desired  should  form 
the  pinnacle  of  her  pyramidal  desert,  yet  unwilling  to  give  up 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  it  admired  there,  she  chose  a  compro- 


108  MEMOIRS    OP    RACHEL. 

raise,  and  hired  it.  Unfortunately,  she  had  been  accompanied 
to  Chevet's  by  a  mischievous  friend,  who,  at  desert,  wickedly 
sugacsted  to  one  of  the  noble  guests  the  cutting  of  the  orna- 
mental  summit.  As  the  duke  inserted  the  knife  into  the  sacred 
fruit,  the  hostess,  losing  all  command  of  her  feelings,  uttered  a 
piercing  shriek.  "  Was  the  heart  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
hidden  in  that  pine  T'  queried  a  well-known  poet. 

Nothing  could  restore  the  good-humor  of  the  tragedienne. 
She  had  not  hesitated  to  give  a  dinner  that  cost  her  1200 
francs ;  she  was  wretched  at  having  been  disappointed  in  her 
scheme  to  save  70  francs. 

Kachel  was  herself  so  well  aware  of  being  a  great  promiser, 
and  as  backward  to  fulfill  as  she  was  ready  to  promise,  that, 
alluding  to  this  propensity,  she  said  to  a  friend  once,  "If  I 
were  obliged  to  give  all  I  have  ever  promised,  the  possession 
of  the  whole  world  would  not  furnish  me  wherewith."  The 
reason  of  this  seeming  contradiction  was,  that  the  constant 
wish  to  please  every  one  about  her,  to  purchase  their  good- 
will by  every  possible  sacrifice,  actuated  lier  first  impulse  :  she 
had  no  sooner  obeyed  it  than  the  fear  of  having  lessened  her 
possessions  took  the  alarm,  and  undid  what  the  love  of  ad- 
miration had  done. 

This  incessant  craving  for  admiration  kept  her  continually 
on  the  alert.  Elle  2^ose  toujours  is  said  by  all  who  know  her ; 
that  is,  she  felt  always  before  the  foot-lights,  and  Avas  as  de- 
sirous of  obtaining  the  praise  of  the  porter  at  the  gate  as  that 
of  the  lord  of  the  chateau.  vShe  was  one  day  with  her  sister 
S9,rah  at  her  house  in  the  valley  of  Montmorenci  while  some 
repairs  were  being  made.  As  they  sat  alone  together,  Rachel 
remarked  how  inconvenient  stiflf  skirts  w^ere. 

"  Why  do  you  wear  them  when  we  are  here  alone  ?"  said 
Sarah. 

"Oh  dear,"  cried  the  tragedienne,  "I  couldn't  think  of  be- 
ing seen  by  the  workmen  so  thin  and  scraggy  as  I  look  with- 
out a  crinoline !" 

In  this  strange  being,  in  whom  great,  even  sublime  things 
w^cre  mingled  with  the  petty  littlenesses,  the  trivialities,  the 
meannesses  inherent  to  the  lower  class  of  the  race,  there  Avas 
one  passion  that  predominated  over  all  the  rest,  and  to  which 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  109 

her  woman's  vanity,  her  artist's  pride  gave  way  ;  to  which  her 
very  genius  was  made  the  subservient  tool — that  passion  which 
was  born  with  her — the  love  of  gold.  Beyond  this  there  was 
nothing  in  life.  An  incident,  related  by  herself,  will  give  some 
idea  of  the  extreme  to  which  it  was  carried. 

Shortly  after  she  had  attained  her  majority,  she  had  gone 
to  Marseilles,  where,  for  one  night's  performance,  she  was  to 
receive  3000  francs.  On  the  day  after  the  performance,  the 
money  was  brought  to  her  in  a  chest.  At  that  time  gold  was 
not  the  common  medium  of  circulation  it  has  since  become, 
and  payments,  even  of  large  sums,  were  often  made  in  silver. 
Rachel  was  recently  emancipated  from  the  parental  trammels  ; 
she  had  never  had  in  her  own  possession  any  thing  like  this 
amount.  At  sight  of  this  box,  full  of  five-franc  pieces,  this 
quantity  of  money  all  hers,  her  eyes  dilated,  and  fastened  upon 
it  with  an  intensity  that  was  almost  painful  to  behold  ;  to  use 
her  own  words,  worthy  of  an  actress  accustomed  to  a  tragic 
style,  she  felt  the  ferocious  joy  of  an  animal  that  has  the  long- 
loishedfor  prey  ivithin  its  clutches.  There  was  no  childish  ex- 
ultation, no  outward  delight,  none  of  the  exultant  pride  of  the 
girl  who  has  by  her  own  exertions  earned  a  large  sum,  no 
feminine  feelings  of  pleasant  anticipation  of  the  many  pretty 
fancies  this  sum  could  gratify  :  no,  it  was  a  quiet,  inward,  sav- 
age enjoyment  of  the  money  itself,  independent  of  all  associa- 
tions generally  connected  with  it.  She  ordered  the  box  to  be 
placed  before  her  by  her  bedside,  and,  plunging  her  hands  into 
it,  kept  stirring  the  silver  about. 

"  Never,"  said  she  to  the  person  to  whom  she  related  this, 
"  never  had  I  seen  so  many  five-franc  pieces  together,  and  all 
belonging  to  me." 

She  kept  the  box  by  her,  and  the  feeling,  sordid,  rapacious, 
possessed  her  throughout  the  night. 

The  fascination  exercised  by  gold  on  the  human  mind,  ac- 
cording to  the  character,  temper,  &c.,  of  the  person  on  whom 
it  acts,  is  extremely  diversified  in  its  effects  ;  were  these  al- 
ways candidly  acknowledged,  the  insight  thus  obtained  would 
afford  matter  for  interesting  studv.  An  instance  of  this  sin- 
gular  influence  occurred  within  the  knowledge  of  the  writer. 
A  very  young  lady  received  a  sum  of  3000  dollars  shortly 


110  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

after  her  marriage.  Though  the  daughter  of  persons  in  good 
circumstances,  she  had  never  had  so  large  a  sum  at  her  own 
disposah  The  sight  of  this  number  of  gold  pieces  produced 
an  effect  similar  to  that  she  would  have  felt  had  she  been 
drinking  vi^ine — a  species  of  intoxication.  When  she.  retired 
to  bed,  she  spread  the  money  on  the  sheets  and  slept  upon  it ! 
Yet  this  person  was  the  very  reverse  of  avaricious.  Accord- 
ing to  her  own  analysis  of  her  feelings,  it  was  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  power  gold  represented  that  gave  it  so  great  a 
charm.  The  feeling  was,  however,  as  short-lived  as  it  was 
sudden. 

Less  innocent  effects  of  this  fascination  have  brought  its 
victims  within  the  pale  of  a  criminal  court.  Among  these 
unfortunates  was,  of  late  years,  a  young  man  of  respectable 
parentage,  who  had  always  borne  an  excellent  character  for 
strict  integrity.  Having  obtained  a  situation  with  a  chemist, 
he  was  one  day  left  alone  before  an  open  drawer  containing  a 
large  sum  of  money.  The  temptation  overpowered  his  natural 
honesty.  Being  subsequently  asked  by  the  magistrate  how  it 
happened  that  he,  who  had  been  so  well  brought  up,  whose 
principles  of  honesty  had  hitherto  been  so  firm,  should  have 
committed  an  act  that  seated  him  on  the  bench  with  hardened 
thieves,  he  replied  that  he  was  not  in  his  senses,  for  the  in- 
stant he  "fixed  his  eyes  on  the  drawer  the  fever  of  gold  ascended 
to  his  brain  ! 

To  gratify  this  insatiate  desire  to  add  continually  to  her 
store,  Kachel  is  said  to  have  tasked  her  inventive  powers,  and 
generally  with  the  success  that  attended  all  her  undertakings. 
The  following  anecdote  was  current  among  her  acquaintances : 
On  one  occasion  she  announced  to  her  numerous  friends  and 
admirers  that  she  had  a  perfect  passion  for  emeralds,  and  in- 
tended making  a  collection  of  those  beautiful  gems.  For  this 
purpose  she  had  already  procured  a  very  fine  one,  which  she 
complacently  exhibited  to  one  of  the  titled  sons  of  fortune 
who  followed  in  the  train  of  the  tragic  muse  as  the  gift  of  a 
competitor  in  the  race  for  her  good  graces.  The  appeal  was 
understood  and  responded  to  with  a  contribution  of  course 
more  valuable  than  the  specimen  exhibited,  the  last  gift  in 
turn  doing  duty  as  a  decoy  to  draw  others,  until  the  collec- 


MICMOIRS    OF    KACHKL.  Ill 

tion  was  large  as  it  was  rich  and  rare,  no  one  being  willing  to 
be  outdone  by  his  predecessor.  This  manoeuvre,  varied  ac- 
cording to  the  victim  played  upon,  brought  into  the  lady's 
jewel  casket  some  thirty  or  forty  of  the  finest  emeralds  in 
Paris,  each  gem  set  with  more  or  less  magnificence,  and  some 
surrounded  with  brilliants. 

The  following  year  the  whim  was  for  rubies,  and  finally 
the  lady  raised  a  sapphire  tax.  When  her  ingenuity  or  the 
generosity  of  her  contributors  was  exhausted,  a  jeweler  was 
sent  for,  to  whom  the  valued  and  valuable  souvenirs  were  sold 
for  the  price  that  could  be  obtained  :  the  money  was  put  where 
it  brouo-ht  in  better  interest  than  in  its  former  more  brilliant 
but  less  profitable  shape. 

The  story  of  the  guitar  has  been  told  in  a  variety  of  ways ; 
the  following  is  reported  to  be  the  most  authentic  version : 

Every  one  has  heard  of  the  grand  vizier  who  had  once  been 
a  shepherd-boy,  and  who,  having  attained  to  the  summit  of 
power,  desirous  of  being  kept  in  remembrance  of  his  early  pov- 
erty, had  hung  up  in  a  room  of  his  sumptuous  palace  the  hum- 
ble garb,  the  shepherd's  crook,  of  his  boyhood.  A  report  was 
long  afloat  that,  following  this  excellent  example.  Mademoi- 
selle Eachel  had  hung  on  her  gilded  walls  the  time-worn 
guitar  of  the  barefooted  street-minstrel.  The  groundwork  of 
this  affecting  anecdote  is  quite  true :  there  is  or  icas  a  guitar, 
and  that  guitar  occupied  a  conspicuous  and  honorable  place 
among  the  splendid  ornaments  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  bou- 
doir. The  celebrated  artiste  had  noticed  at  the  house  of  a 
friend  a  guitar  of  most  respectable  antiquity,  the  original  color 
of  which  had  long  ago  disappeared  under  the  thick  black  crust 
with  which  Time  had  coated  it. 

"Arc  you  much  attached  to  that  piece  of  lumber?"  quoth 
Rachel  to  Madame  S.,  the  owner :  "  would  you  mind  giving 
it  tome?" 

"  Oh  no,  indeed,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  rid 
of  it." 

The  maid  was  sent  off  with  the  guitar  to  Rachel's  lodgings. 

A  few  days  after  it  was  the  turn  of  an  intimate  male  friend 
to  notice  the  instrument,  but  this  time  it  hung,  enveloped  in 
a  beautiful  silk  net,  through  the  bright  meshes  of  which  its 


112  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

black  back  was  plainly  visible,  on  the  gilded  Avail  of  an  ele- 
gant boudoir. 

"  What  in  the  world  have  you  there  ?"  quoth  the  visitor. 

"  That,"  said  Rachel,  assuming  a  sentimental  attitude, "  that 
is  the  humble  guitar,  the  faithful  companion  with  which,  in 
the  days  of  my  childhood,  I  earned  the  scanty  pittance  be- 
stowed on  the  poor  little  street-singer." 

"  Good  heavens  !  can  it  be  possible  ?  How  very  interest- 
ing !  Oh,  I  beg,  I  entreat  you  to  let  me  become  the  fortunate 
possessor  of  that  inestimable  treasure  !  To  me,  to  the  world, 
to  history,  a  precious  memento  ;  to  future  generations,  a  price- 
less legacy!"  exclaimed  Mr. in  the  glow  of  his  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  Oh,  I  can  never,  never  consent  to  part  with  it." 

*'  I  must  have  it,  uk  ^^ny  cost ;  do  not  deny  me  this  gift,  to 
be  held  as  a  sacred  relic ;  and  permit  me  to  offer  you,  as  a 
poor  exchange,  the  set  of  diamonds  and  rubies  you  appeared 
to  admire  some  days  ago  at  the  jeweler's." 

"  Ah !  well,"  quoth  the  tragic  muse,  heaving  a  deep  sigh, 
"  since  you  will  have  it,  I  can  not  refuse  you." 

The  historical  instrument  obtained  so  cheaply,  at  a  cost  of 
some  50,000  francs,  was  triumphantly  installed  in  the  aristo- 
cratic apartment  of  its  new  owner,  who  exhibited  it  to  every 
caller,  narrating  its  pathetic  origin  with  the  emphatic  delivery 
of  a  showman  at  a  fair.  Unfortunately,  the  original  possessor 
happened  to  have  occasion  to  call  on  the  noble  count,  and,  rec- 
ognizing the  present  she  had  made  to  Rachel,  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation of  surprise.  An  explanation  followed,  given  with- 
out malice  prepense ;  for  Madame  S.,  quite  ignorant  of  the 
mischief  she  was  doing,  destroyed  the  romance  attached  to  the 
relic  so  dearly  purchased.  Rachel  repented  too  late  not  hav- 
ing warned  her  unconscious  accomplice.  As  for  the  count, 
he  could  not  forgive  himself  for  having  been  so  readily  the 
dupe  of  his  own  unsuspecting  enthusiasm. 

Some  one  who  heard  of  this  successful  little  speculation  and 
somewhat  doubted  its  truth,  mentioned  the  report  to  Made- 
moiselle Rachel,  thinking  to  hear  her  give  it  an  indignant  de- 
nial.    But  the  heroine  only  laughed,  exclaiming,  "  Poor , 

how  furious  be  was !" 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  113 

Out  of  the  circle  of  her  own  family  Kiichel  -was  accused  of 
having  no  consideration  for  any  interest  but  her  own.  "SVith 
her  there  was  no  artistic  fraternity ;  she  would  crush  every 
appearance  of  talent  that  entered  her  sphere,  and  has  commit- 
ted, or  caused  to  be  committed,  innumerable  acts  of  injustice 
in  order  to  clear  her  path  of  any  one  likely  to  obtain  the  slight- 
est share  of  the  notice  she  wished  entirely  to  monopolize.  It 
can  not  be  Avondered  that  such  conduct  should  have  estranged 
the  aflfections  of  her  comrades.  Some  one  asking  Mademoi- 
selle Judith  why  she  was  so  severe  in  her  remarks  on  one 
who,  after  all,  was  a  co-religionist  of  hers,  "  True,"  replied  the 
W'itty  actress,  "  but  with  a  difterence :  I  am  a  Jewess,  but 
Eachel — Rachel  is  a  Jew  !" 

She  has  too  often  appeared  to  sacrifice  the  dignity  of  art, 
and  made  her  talent  a  mere  article  of  barter  and  sale,  to  be 
bargained  for  shamelessly  and  sold  to  the  highest  bidder.  Her 
continual  discussions  and  lawsuits  with  the  management  of 
the  The'utre  Franc^ais  have  fully  shown  that  she  considered 
the  theatre  as  her  counter,  her  shop,  where  she  put  into  prac- 
tice all  the  tricky  manoeuvres  of  her  parents'  first  trade  to  get 
the  better  of  those  she  made  contracts  with.  Here  she  gave 
■the  rein  to  a  temper  harsh,  cold,  despotic,  sulky,  or  stormy,  as 
the  occasion  might  call  it  forth,  but  never  kind  or  agreeable 
in  business.  With  the  management  she  has  constantly  been 
at  variance,  having  recourse  to  every  pretext  to  elude  fulfilling 
her  engagements  when  she  found  it  to  her  advantage. 

Witla  the  public,  with  the  admirers  who  thronged  her  box 
between  the  acts — for  Rachel  seldom  honored  the  green-room 
with  her  presence — she  was  all  smiles  and  winning  manners. 
In  society,  it  has  already  been  said,  she  possessed  such  perfect 
tact,  so  gi-eat  a  delicacy  of  intuition,  so  natural  an  apprecia- 
tion of  that  which  is  refined  and  elegant,  that  from  the  very 
hour  of  her  admission  into  it  she  moved  there  with  graceful 
ease,  and  fell  instantly  into  its  habits,  never  betraying  by  any 
solecism  that  she  pertained  to  a  diflferent  sphere. 

She  was,  in  truth,  an  astonishing  compound  of  good  quali- 
ties and  of  imperfections,  of  greatness  and  of  littleness,  of  the 
sublime  and  the  low.  Her  temper  offers  the  same  strange 
mixture  of  wisdom  and  folly,  boldness  and  timidity,  modesty 


114  MEMOIRS    OF  RACHEL. 

and  passion  it  did  in  early  youth ;  in  some  points  more  devel- 
oped, in  others  more  subdued  by  years  and  circumstances,  but 
in  essence  still  the  same  fantastic,  elf-like  nature. 

It  is  said  that  the  cunning,  the  deceitful,  tricky,  doubling 
arts  of  the  vendors  of  "ol'  clo',''  chaffering  with  menials  for 
cast-off  garments,  were  at  times  resorted  to  by  the  wealthy 
queen  of  tragedy  to  further  her  interests,  and  that  the  lips  that 
have  given  such  eloquent  utterance  to  the  great  classic  poets, 
and  distilled  Hyblean  sweets  to  sovereigns,  lords,  and  ladies 
entranced  by  her  accents,  were  equally  ready  to  drive  uncon- 
scionable bargains. 

The  passion  for  locomotion  which,  united  to  the  love  of 
gain,  led  her  to  be  constantly  on  the  wing  from  Paris  to  the 
provinces,  from  France  to  Russia,  to  Germany,  Italy,  England, 
and  finally  to  the  United  States,  traveling  incessantly  dui'ing 
two  thirds,  and  even  three  fourths  of  each  year,  may  perhaps 
have  been  owing  to  the  nomade  life  of  the  mother.  Those 
who  seek  in  the  propensities  and  habits  of  the  parent  the  germ 
of  the  child's  inclination,  in  accordanrce  with  the  system  of 
pre-existent  education,  may  here  find  an  explanation  of  Ra- 
chel's roving  habits.  The  mother's  avocation  had  influenced 
the  temper  and  tastes  of  her  unborn  babe.  The  tragcdieiine 
hawked  about  her  talent  as  the  parent  had  her  less  valuable 
merchandise.  But  in  this  particular  Rachel  did  not  differ 
much  from  other  artists,  philharmonic  as  well  as  dramatic. 

Yet,  with  all  her  faults,  it  will  be  long,  perhaps,  before  Na- 
ture will  gift  another  of  her  children  as  richly  as  she  has  Ra- 
chel, and  unite  in  one  being  her  genius,  her  intuitive  concep- 
tion of  the  sublime  and  the  beautiful,  her  extraordinary  power 
of  expressing  what  she  so  perfectly  conceives,  her  grand  pagan 
qualities,  her  Greek,  statue-like  figure,  her  majesty  of  brow 
and  attitude,  her  quiet  dignity  of  manner.  If  we  lose  her  we 
may  well  say.  There  is  a  great  spirit  gone. 

The  passion  apparently  most  deeply  rooted  in  Rachel's  na- 
ture was,  next  to  the  ruling  one  of  gold,  the  love  of  dominion, 
the  thirst  of  power  over  the  hearts  of  others,  the  acquisition 
of  whatsoever  belonged  to  another ;  whether  the  object  was 
the  heart  of  a  man  or  the  most  trifling  bauble,  it  mattered  not, 
so  long  as  it  was  the  property  of  another ;  it  was  ardently  cov- 


MEilOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  115 

eted,  and  every  artifice,  every  temptation,  every  seduction — 
and  what  daughter  of  Eve  could  boast  of  such  an  arsenal  of 
irresistible  weapons  as  that  which  Rachel  possessed — was  re- 
sorted to  in  order  to  obtain  it.  The  instant  it  was  hers,  the 
longed-for  object  lost  all  attraction  ;  it  was  utterly  despised ; 
unless,  indeed,  it  possessed  a  metallic  value,  every  other  charm 
was  annihilated  by  possession.  The  human  victims  that  have 
been  sacrificed  to  bring  to  her  feet  the  homage  tributed  to  an- 
other have  been  so  numerous  that  she  herself  would  have  been 
puzzled  to  number  them.  "Were  hearts  made  of  the  brittle 
texture  they  are  supposed  to  be  by  mad  poets  and  boarding- 
school  misses,  the  fragments  of  those  broken  by  Kachel  would 
have  cumbered  her  path.  Fortunately,  those  trophies  are  of 
tougher  materials,  and,  if  ever  flawed,  are  easily  mended  and 
made  as  good  as  ever.  As  for  her  own,  there  Avas  no  danger: 
love,  aftection,  passion,  sentiment,  feeling,  never  determined 
her  choice.  The  advantages  to  be  derived  from  the  position, 
station,  rank,  or  wealth  of  a  friend,  or  the  triumph  of  seducing 
the  allesiance  tendered  at  some  other  shrine,  were  ever  the 
suiding  motives  of  her  selection,  and  where  she  willed  she 
never  failed. 

It  has  been  said  that  Eachel  was  not  beautiful.  Perhaps 
she  was  not  to  the  eye  that  sees  beauty  but  in  certain  conven- 
tional forms,  in  a  certain  color  ;  but  while  none  can  pronounce 
her  to  have  been  plain,  she  possessed  that  higher  degree  of 
beauty  imparted  by  the  radiant  light  of  genius  illuminating 
the  countenance.  For  such  as  delight  in  detailed  accounts 
of  each  feature,  we  give  them  here,  premising  that  descriptions 
never  furnish  an  adequate  idea  of  the  effect  of  the  whole  upon 
the  beholder. 

The  head  was  perfectly  shaped,  rather  small,  rather  broad, 
not  high,  and  covered  with  dark  chestnut  hair,  neither  thick 
nor  thin,  but  beautifully  fine,  soft,  and  silky.  The  brow,  en- 
dowed with  such  extraordinary  power  of  expression,  was  prom- 
inent and  wide,  but  low ;  her  eyebrows  were  exquisitely  drawn ; 
the  eyes,  the  same  color  as  the  hair,  were  neither  large  nor 
small,  but  so  deep  set  that  they  had  the  appearance  of  being 
intensely  black  :  they  were  fringed  with  very  long  silky  lashes. 
The  mouth,  neither  large  nor  small,  was  filled  with  teeth  all 


IIG  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

perfect  and  beautifully  white ;  the  under  lip  was  long  and 
thick,  not  suggestive  of  sulks,  but  of  storms,  and,  though  so  de- 
fective in  point  of  beauty,  extremely  expressive.  The  nose 
was  beautiful,  the  curve  indicating  the  race  very  slightly  in- 
clining the  tip ;  but  it  was  perfect  in  its  proportions,  with 
thin,  transparent,  veiny  nostrils.  The  chin  was  small  and 
pretty.  The  delicate  little  ear  was  compared  by  a  soft-heart- 
ed hon  vivant  to  an  Ostend  oyster,  and  lay  close  to  the  head. 
From  the  tip  of  the  ear  to  the  chin  the  face  was  a  long  oval. 
The  skin  Avas  fair  and  extremely  delicate.  In  size  Eachel  was 
rather  above  the  middle  height ;  her  figure  had  the  litheness, 
the  grace,  the  flexibility  of  a  reed,  and,  in  repose,  gave  the  im- 
pression of  a  very  delicate  constitution ;  but  when  she  was 
acting  an  energetic  part,  the  long,  slight  arms  seemed  to  change 
to  steel,  so  powerful  was  the  character  of  inflexibility  they 
presented.  The  hands,  which  Avere  rather  pretty,  were  objects 
of  continual  care  and  solicitude  with  Mademoiselle  Rachel ; 
her  feet  might  have  served  as  models  to  a  modern  Praxiteles. 
The  limbs  were  so  well  fastened  on,  the  shoulders  so  graceful, 
that  the  thinness  of  the  figure  was  hardly  noticed.  The  pe- 
culiar shape  of  the  chest,  however,  almost  amounted  to  a  de- 
formity :  the  breast-bone  was  like  a  fowl's,  bony,  projecting 
sharply,  ungraceful  to  the  eye.  The  defect  was  not  at  all  per- 
ceptible either  in  theatrical  costume  or  ordinary  dress;  the 
folds  of  the  peplum  and  tunic  in  the  first  quite  concealed  it, 
and  the  skill  of  the  dressmaker  in  the  latter  was  no  less  suc- 
cessful. 

The  above  attempt  to  describe  features  whose  peculiar  merit 
was  in  their  great  power  of  expression,  in  their  wonderful  de- 
lineations of  the  passions,  must  prove  very  unsatisfactory. 
The  only  description  that  can  convey  any  idea  of  the  inimita- 
ble jeu  cle  j^hysionomie  of  that  eloquent  face  is  the  exhortation 
of  Henry  V.  to  his  soldiers — an  exhortation  she  had  never 
read,  but  which  nature  had  taught  her  to  obey  to  the  letter : 

"  Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 
Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard  favored-rage ; 
Then  lend  the  eye  a  terrible  aspect ; 
Let  it  pry  through  the  portage  of  the  head 
Like  the  brass  cannon ;  let  the  brow  o'cnvhelm  it 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHtL.  117 

As  fearfully  as  doth  a  galled  rock 
O'erhang  and  jutty  his  confounded  base, 
Swill'd  with  the  wild  and  wasteful  ocean. 
Now  set  the  teeth  and  stretch  the  nostrils  wide; 
Hold  hard  the  breath,  and  bend  up  every  spirit 
To  his  full  height." 

All  this  the  features  of  Mademoiselle  Eachel  were  eminent- 
ly fitted  to  convey.  She  had  also,  with  that  intuitive  knowl- 
edge that  sometimes  takes  the  place  of  study,  followed  the 
excellent  advice  of  Hamlet  to  the  players,  and  marred  with 
rant  and  scream  none  of  the  effects  produced  by  her  counte- 
nance. Few  actors  have,  like  her,  made  silence  often  more 
eloquent  than  words.  Few  have  so  well  understood  that  ex- 
cessive grief  is  never  expressed  by  violent  action  ;  that  deep 
reflection  precludes  it  altogether ;  that  indignation,  contempt, 
pride,  menace,  concentrated  rage,  are  sho'\\Ti  in  the  counte- 
nance rather  than  in  the  motions.  A  look  contains  more  terror 
than  the  frantic  stride;  the  often  ludicrous  gestures  that  "please 
the  vulvar,  make  the  critic  laugh."  The  ancients,  who  acted 
under  a  mask,  could  have  no  idea  of  the  advantages  derived 
from  the  system  adopted  by  the  moderns. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

1843. 
The  Drama  behind  the  Mask. 


It  is  not  unfrequently  the  case  that  reality,  more  poignant 
than  the  most  highly-wrought  fiction,  is  concealed  beneath  the 
trafnc  mask.  The  stage  is  then  the  arena  of  gladiators  who 
peril  far  more  than  the  combatants  in  the  Koman  circus,  for 
the  latter  periled  life  only;  the  modern  gladiator  stakes  the 
Divine  ray,  the  God-given  torch — his  reason.  At  times  the 
unconscious  judges  who  have  come  to  while  away  an  hour,  to 
see  how  far  and  how  well  humanity  can  be  mimicked  in  its 
wildest  and  most  terrific  moods,  how  nicely  the  unnatural 
may  be  made  to  look  natural,  how  closely  fiction  can  be  made 
to  resemble  truth,  at  times  these  indifferent  spectators,  eager 


118  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

only  to  get  the  worth  of  their  money,  and  ready  to  cavil  on  a 
■word  and  harp  on  a  gesture,  little  deem  that  before  their  eyes 
another  and  a  far  more  fatal  drama  is  being  performed.  But 
there  are  other  instances  when  the  secret  has  ceased  to  be  one  ; 
when  the  knowledge  of  the  terrific  stake  to  be  played  has  been 
made  an  incentive  to  increase  the  interest ;  when  the  life,  the 
death,  or  madness  of  a  fellow-creature,  his  fearful  struggle, 
his  last  agony,  his  despairing  effort  to  rekindle  the  expiring 
ray,  are  used  as  attractive  items  in  the  playbill ;  when  the  vic- 
tim himself  makes  a  speculation  of  his  tortures,  sanctions  this 
fearful  exposure  of  the  most  pitiful  bereavement  that  can  afflict 
a  God-forsaken  creature,  and  counts  in  anticipation  the  gains. 

Ay,  all  are  bidden  to  the  harrowing  fete,  all  respond  eager- 
ly to  the  summons,  for  the  spectacle  is  to  be  no  common  one 
— a  remnant  of  humanity,  Avearing  still  the  outer  semblance 
of  a  man,  while  all  within  is  vacancy ;  a  being  all  once  knew 
so  well,  who  knows  himself  no  longer ;  whose  friends,  whose 
children,  whose  very  name  are  effaced  from  the  tablet  of  his 
blurred  and  blotted  memory.  Yet  this  name  he  has  forgotten 
was  once,  to  thousands  of  his  admirers,  suggestive  of  no  sad- 
ness. At  its  mention  the  merry  laugh  and  droll  jest  again 
resounded  in  the  ear,  melancholy  took  flight,  wit  and  humor 
reigned  omnipotent. 

This  shattered  idol,  this  defaced  relic  of  the  past,  has  inter- 
vals when  light  pierces  the  darkness  ;  when  dethroned  reason 
for  a  brief  space  resumes  her  sway ;  when  he  fathoms  the 
abyss  into  which  he  has  fallen ;  when  he  is  conscious  of  what 
is,  remembers  what  was,  and,  worst  of  all,  knows  what  must 
be  again — in  a  day — in  an  hour — anon — even,  perhaps,  while 
he  thinks  of  it.  And  this  unfortunate  has  bethought  himself 
that  another  such  gleam  of  intelligence  may  be  taken  advan- 
taae  of  to  secure  to  the  ravless  nijrht  of  his  old  a^e  physical 
comforts  that  money  alone  can  procure.  He  has  but  an  hour, 
an  uncertain,  fleeting  hour ;  he  will  sell  it  to  the  world  for 
bread.  Yesterday  he  was  nameless,  to-morrow  he  will  again 
be  so,  but  to-night  he  will  give  the  public  the  personification 
of  the  wittiest,  most  sarcastic,  most  brilliant  and  foscinating 
of  his  characters.  Ay,  he  is  right,  too,  in  his  anticipation  of 
pecuniary  success.     The  alms  the  cold  charity  of  the  world 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  119 

have  grudged  his  misfortune  will  be  willingly  paid  as  the  re- 
ward of  this  gratification  of  morbid  curiosity. 

In  the  early  part  of  January,  Mademoiselle  Rachel  acted 
for  the  benefit  of  Monrosc,  oxie  of  the  best  Figaros  the  boards 
had  ever  known.  Poor  Monrose  had  been  indebted  to  his  suc- 
cess in  Beaumarchais's  play  to  a  constant  study  of  it  that  had 
had  the  most  fatal  result — insanity.  He  did  not  p%  the  part ; 
he  had  indentified  himself  Avith  it,  on  the  stage  and  off  of  it ; 
at  table,  waking  and  sleeping,  he  was  in  his  rofe.  This  con- 
stant absorption  of  the  author's  creation  produced  a  strange 
phenomenon :  the  actor  could  no  longer  lay  down  the  fictitious 
part,  and  be  himself;  the  character,  like  the  robe  of  the  cen- 
taur, clung  to  him,  and  would  not  be  torn  away.  He  had 
forgotten  his  name,  but  he  immediately  answered  to  that  of 
Figaro.  In  conversation  he  was  absent,  and  appeared  neither 
to  hear  nor  understand ;  but  a  quotation  from  the  "  Barbier" 
brought  forth  a  prompt,  an  animated  answer,  the  droll  gesture, 
the  contagious  laugh.  He  had  forgotten  his  own  existence, 
he  had  not  forgotten  a  line  of  the  play ! 

We  have  said  that  the  unfortunate  actor  had  determined, 
in  a  lucid  interval,  to  take  advantage  of  the  next  one  to  come 
again  before  the  public,  and  endeavor  to  earn  during  that 
respite  wherewith  to  supply  himself  with  the  comforts  his 
helpless  condition  required.  The  house  was  crowded  ;  the 
anxiety  of  spectators  and  actors  may  be  readily  conceived; 
the  sight  was  terrible,  the  trial  exciting  in  the  highest  degree. 
All,  conscious  of  the  truth,  dreaded  at  each  word,  at  each 
gesture,  a  return  of  the  fatal  malady ;  nay,  doubted  whether 
it  had  not  returned  and  was  not  lurking  beneath  the  apparent 
calm.  The  Rosine  and  the  Alinavives  of  the  evening  were  un- 
der the  influence  of  a  terror  they  could  scarcely  disguise.  The 
object  of  all  this  alarm  seemed  to  seek,  by  his  oiFhand,  easy 
grace,  his  brilliant  sallies  and  his  smiling  looks,  to  reassure 
them.  There  are  in  the  role  of  Figaro  passages  but  too  allu- 
sive to  his  unhappy  state,  and  every  heart  beat  with  terror  as 
the  doomed  man  uttered  the  three  words  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  third  act :  "  II  est  fou  /  II  est  fou  !  II  est  fou  .'"  And  here, 
and  here  only,  did  Monrose  himself  seem  to  allow  that  he  was 
aware  of  the  truth.     He  uttered  the  sentence  each  time  with 


120  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

iriCTeased  vehemence  and  with  an  expression  of  the  most  poign- 
ant grief.  Even  Mademoiselle  Kache],  who  that  evening 
played  her  best  character,  one  with  which  she  was  most  famil- 
iar, actually  lost  her  memory  twice  during  the  performance.  . 

When  Monrose  entered,  a  thunder  of  applause  welcomed 
him,  and  it  would  have  been  renewed  much  oftener  had  not 
the  fear  of  exciting  him  too  much  counseled  calmer  tones  of 
approbation.  He  surpassed  his  former  self.  It  seemed  im- 
possible that  the  fine  intellect,  so  quick  at  comprehending  all 
the  wit  of  the  author,  so  readily  interpreting  it,  should  be 
doomed  to  utter  darkness  again ;  and,  most  terrible  of  all,  that 
gay,  laughing,  charming  spirit,  knew  his  doom.  The  general 
impression,  notwithstanding  the  wit  and  humor  of  the  play, 
could  not  but  be  sad ;  the  more  gay  and  merry  seemed  the 
actor,  the  greater  was  the  regret  at  losing  him  again.  The 
farewell  of  the  public  produced  a  sum  of  18,000  francs.  The 
intelligent  physician  of  the  asylum,  Doctor  Blanche,  remained 
behind  the  scenes,  comforting  and  encouraging  him  between 
the  acts,  but  himself  paler  and  far  more  anxious  than  the 
brilliant  Figaro. 

Another  sad  instance  of  the  faculty  of  assimilation,  carried 
so  far  that  the  unfortunate  mimic  has  lost  his  own  being,  and 
adopted  that  of  his  model,  occurred  some  years  previous  to 
the  case  of  Monrose.  Insanity  was  the  stage  theme  then  in 
vogue,  as  blindness  has  been  the  recent  one.  Humanity,  not 
content  with  the  painful  realities  that  afflict  it,  takes  a  strange 
delight  in  reproducing  their  semblance. 

The  actress  who  was  to  play  the  part  of  the  stricken  hero- 
ine on  the  boards  of  one  of  the  second  class  theatres  of  the 
Boulevards  w^as  a  young,  delicate,  and  pretty  girl,  gifted  with 
an  organization  far  too  sensitive  and  nervous  to  bear  with 
impunity  the  terrible  working  up  necessary  for  the  personi- 
fication of  the  role.  Called  upon  to  simulate  madness — that 
is,  the  annihilation  of  the  noblest  of  God's  gifts — to  "  disguise 
fair  nature  with  hard-favored  rage,"  distort  her  features,  and 
go  through  all  the  fearful  mimicry  of  that  most  fearful  of  all 
diseases,  she  studied  the  part  conscientiously,  and  frequently 
repaired  to  an  insane  hospital,  in  order  to  study  in  all  its 
phases,  and  reproduce  with  scrupulous  fidelity,  unnatural  na- 


MOIOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  121 

ture.  She  succeeded  ])ut  too  well ;  she  learned  to  imitate  the 
vacant  stare,  the  horrid  grin,  the  hollow  laugh,  the  broken 
voice,  and,  step  by  step,  acquired  an  appalling  perfection. 
Fearing  to  lose  the  faculty  thus  painfully  acquired,  she  kept 
on  her  terrible  mask,  even  when  off  the  stage,  for  hours  to- 
gether. One  evening,  between  the  acts,  she  carried  the  mock- 
ery so  far  as  to  endeavor  to  persuade  herself  for  a  short  time 
that  she  was  one  of  the  wretched  creatures  she  had  so  often 
watched  striding  up  and  down  in  the  paved  court  of  the  Sal- 
petriere,  insane  among  the  insane,  mad  among  the  mad,  and 
she  succeeded — succeeded  beyond  her  wishes — succeeded  fo7'- 
ever !  She  realized  her  audacious  mockery;  the  despair  of 
the  heart  ascended  to  the  reeling,  overturned  brain ;  she  was 
seized  with  a  vertigo ;  before  her  rose  the  panorama  of  the 
anticipated  tomb  of  reason ;  she  heard  the  gnashing  of  teeth, 
the  heart-rending  shriek,  the  distracting  yell ;  she  saw  her- 
self crouching  among  the  grinning  skeletons ;  she  looked  in 
the  glass,  and,  behold,  her  eye  shot  forth  a  strange  light ;  she 
tried  to  sing,  her  voice  was  choked ;  to  weep,  and  two  drops 
fell  like  molten  lead  on  her  sunken  cheek ;  to  pray,  and  blas- 
phemous curses  issued  from  her  lurid  lips  ;  to  clasp  her  hands, 
and  the  nails  closed  like  talons  into  the  quivering  flesh ;  to 
dress  herself,  every  tasteful  instinct  was  gone,  and  in  its  place 
perverted  fancies  alone  remained.  She  had  accomplished  her 
object ;  she  had  perfected  her  part ;  she  had  found  the  fearful 
ideal  so  long  sought.  At  this  awful  moment  the  bell  rings, 
and,  true  to  long-followed  habit,  she  rushed  on  the  stage. 
Strange  to  say,  the  public,  beholding  the  terribly  truthful 
apparition,  this  haggard,  soiled,  ragged  wretch,  with  dishev- 
elled straw-wreathed  hair  and  foaming  mouth,  the  public  hiss- 
ed— the  public  exclaimed  that  the  girl  was  drunk — that  it 
was  insulted — that  she  did  not  knoiv  her  part.  So  much  for 
the  judgment  of  the  public.  Alas!  she  was  mad  ;  hopelessly, 
incm-ably  insane ;  and  those  who  may  wish  to  attain  perfec- 
tion in  the  part  can  study  it  at  their  leisure  in  the  person  of 
its  victim,  who,  clothed  in  the  ignominious  straight-jacket  at 
the  Salpotriere,  remains  a  lesson  to  those  who  daringly  outrage 
God  in  his  noblest  woi'k,  and  throw  down  the  gauntlet  to  the 
weak  brain  they  should  seek  to  strengthen. 

F 


122  MEMOmS    OF    RACHEL. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

1843. 

Pkedre:  a  first  Attempt. — "Judith." — An  unexpected  Debutante. — 
Southern  Enthusiasm. — A  Deed  of  Charity. — Debuts  of  Eaphael  and 
Rebecca  Felix  in  the  "Cid." 

!BIademoiselle  Rachel  began  this  year  with  the  tragedy 
of  "Phedre."  The  day  chosen — the  21st  of  January — caused 
no  little  surprise  in  the  circles  of  the  aristocratic  Faubourg 
St.  Germain,  that  had  given  so  kind  a  reception  to  the  young 
tragedienne.  This  little  world,  that  held  itself  aloof,  and 
scorned  to  mix  with  the  plebeian  court  of  1830;  that  dwelt 
in  the  heart  of  the  busy  capital  as  isolated  as  though  nothing 
existed  beyond  its  own  sphere ;  that  adhered  A^-ith  noble  tenac- 
ity to  the  religious  faith,  to  the  political  creed  of  forefathers 
who  had  sealed  them  vnth  their  blood  on  the  scaffold — the 
Faubourg  St.  Germain — had  greeted  with  enthusiasm  the  new 
Melpomene.  With  the  Legitimists  she  was  the  representative 
of  the  classic — to  them  the  monarchical — theatre.  She  was 
the  principal  example  of  a  reaction  that  was  to  cast  the 
dramatic  school  of  the  Revolution  into  the  shade.  She  was 
the  interpreter  of  art  in  all  its  purity ;  and,  as  such,  even 
rigid  piety  felt  justified  in  vouchsafing  encouragement  and 
support  to  the  Jewish  actress.  The  exclusiveness  of  the 
sphere  made  her  admission  there  the  more  flattering,  while 
the  assiduity  with  which  her  noble  friends  testified  their  ap- 
probation by  appearing  at  every  performance  was  of  no  littl(\. 
value  in  another  sense. 

To  these  faithful  ones  who  held  sacred  the  terrible  souvenirs 
of  the  past,  the  choice  of  the  anniversary  of  the  martyrdom  of 
Louis  XVI.  for  her  debut  in  "  Phedre"  was  almost  sacrile- 
gious. At  any  rate,  it  denoted  little  respect  for  feeling  she  was 
bound  to  honor,  if  not  to  share.  It  was  a  rupture  of  the 
tacit  contract  that  she  had  virtually  accepted,  and  those  who 
would  have  rejoiced  in  encouraging  her  in  this  new  trial  ab- 
stained from  giving  it  the  sanction  of  their  presence. 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  123 

Two  months  had  scarcely  elapsed  since  the  faithless  one  had 
recited  in  the  Convent  of  the  Abbaye  aiix  IJois  that  very 
Phedre  in  the  presence  of  the  illustrious  author  of  the  "  Genie 
du  Christianisme."  She  had  received  her  first  ideas  of  this 
role  from  the  lips  of  that  great  apostle  of  legitimacy.  She  had 
had  the  inestimable  privilege  of  hearing  it  discussed  in  the 
presence  of  him  who  had  written  so  eloquent,  though  so  erro- 
neous an  analysis  of  the  Greek  queen's  character.  She  had 
probably  adopted  the  opinions  echoed  by  his  entourage,  and 
seen  in  Phhlre  "  a  mixture  of  spirit  and  matter,  of  despair 
and  amorous  phrensy  that  is  beyond  all  expression.  The 
woman  who  could  be  resigned  to  an  eternity  of  suffering  had 
she  enjoyed  one  moment  of  happiness,  that  woman  belongs  not 
to  the  characters  of  antiquity.  She  is  the  last,  the  reprobate 
Christian  ******  ]^er  words  are  those  of  the 
damned." 

The  boldness  of  Mademoiselle  Maxine  in  undertaking  Phe- 
dre the  preceding  year  probably  proved  an  incentive  to  Made- 
moiselle Rachel  to  try  her  far  greater  powers  in  this  difficult 
role — the  most  difficult,  indeed,  of  all  the  classic  repertoire,  the 
one  that  stamps  the  seal  of  genius  on  the  actress,  or  reveals  that 
what  was  hitherto  taken  for  genius  was  only  talent.  Here 
too  the  actress  had  to  contend  against  the  impression  Made- 
moiselle Duchesnois  had  made  in  the  part,  an  impression  that 
survived  in  the  memory  of  many  present.  Mademoiselle  Du- 
chesnois was,  certes,  very  inferior  in  some  points  to  her  young 
successor,  but  she  possessed  qualities  most  indispensable  to 
tragedy  of  which  Rachel  was  entirely  destitute ;  she  had  from 
nature  the  faculty  of  expressing  tenderness  in  its  most  moving 
form,  depth  of  feeling  in  its  most  sympathetic,  heart-stirring, 
passionate  moods.  Phedre,  the  role  of  her  dcMit,  had  remain- 
ed her  favorite  one  throughout  her  long  career,  and  she  had 
never  acted  it  without  drawing  tears  from  every  spectator. 
Ten  years  had  scarcely  elapsed  since  her  death,  and  that  ad- 
mirable, tear-pregnant  voice  still  echoed  in  the  hearts  of 
many. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  knew  well  that  she  had  to  contend 
with  these  souvenirs  ;  she  knew,  too,  that  she  herself  had  been 
always  reproached  with  a  lack  of  tenderness,  and  she  had  re- 


124  MEMOIRS    OF   EACHEL. 

solved  at  any  cost,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  her  finest  natural 
qualities,  to  acquire  those  she  had  not.  She  forgot  that  she 
was  not  yet  suited  by  time  for  the  part  of  the  daughter  of 
Pasiphce,  and  that  the  wife  of  Theseus  is  a  woman  of  twenty- 
eight  or  thirty  years  of  age.  This  attempt  at  forcing  nature 
pi'ecluded  all  inspiration,  and  necessarily  entailed  constraint, 
fatigue,  and  a  want  of  confidence  in  her  own  powers  that  re- 
acted painfully  on  the  audience.  It  was  not  until  several 
years  later  that  Rachel  really  displayed  her  splendid  powers 
to  full  advantage  in  this  role.  On  the  present  occasion  expec- 
tation was  disappointed.  She  played  still  in  her  own  grand 
authoritative  style,  but  effect  was  produced  by  the  nerves,  not 
the  heart.  Critics  loudly  complained  that  in  Phcdre  she  was 
still  Hermione,  and  that  consequently,  in  the  five  acts  of  the 
former,  she  found  but  two — the  third  and  fourth — into  which 
she  introduced  the  inflections,  the  gestures,  the  disdain,  rage, 
and  scorn  of  her  favorite  character ;  that,  in  fact,  in  lieu  of 
studying  a  new  part,  she  had  merely  effected  a  transposition 
of  the  old.  To  judge  of  Rachel  in  this  character  on  this  her 
first  attempt,  would  be  unjust:  Rachel  was  not  Phklre  until 
eleven  years  later. 

On  the  24th  of  April  the  long-expressed  wishes  of  the  pub- 
lic were  gratified,  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel  appeared  in  a  role 
of  her  own  creation,  in  a  character  Avi'itten  expressly  for  her, 
as  a  heroine  of  her  own  race  and  her  own  religion. 

Circumstances  that  to  many  would  appear  the  most  favor- 
able for  the  actress  turned  out  to  be  the  most  disadvantageous 
that  could  possibly  have  occurred.  The  tragedy  of  "Judith" 
was  the  work  of  a  woman,  handsome,  brilliant,  and  fashiona- 
ble, the  cynosure  of  a  circle  composed  of  men  of  the  highest 
order  of  intellect  and  of  sparkling  wit,  the  pet  of  the  world  of 
letters  and  of  the  world  of  fashion,  herself  occupying  a  high 
place  in  either  sphere,  the  talented  child  of  a  talented  mother, 
the  wife  of  one  of  the  omnipotent  arbiters  of  merit,  and  the 
head  of  one  of  the  chief  organs  of  the  press.  The  result  may  be 
imagined :  if  the  tragedy  was  fine,  it  of  course  would  be  well 
supported  ;  if  poor,  it  would  be  supported  qncind  mcme,  and  the 
failure  laid  to  the  interpreter. 

The  theme  was  ill  chosen ;   it  had  already  been  tried  by 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  125 

others  without  success,  but  it  was  hoped  that  the  talent  of  the 
authoress,  supported  by  that  of  the  actress,  would  make  it 
this  time  acceptable.  It  must  be  confessed  that  it  was  scarce- 
ly possible  to  make  a  worse  selection  as  to  subject  than  this 
page  cut  from  the  Bible  and  dramatized.  Judith  could  never 
be  a  popular  heroine  in  Fi'ance  :  this  widow,  introducing  her- 
self into  the  bed  of  a  besotted  barbarian,  and  chopping  off  his 
head  Avith  a  gi-eat  Damascus  sabre,  inspires  more  disgust  than 
admiration.  There  is  something  indescribably  repulsive  in 
the  apparent  pandering  to  the  loathsome  desires  of  an  enemy 
in  order  to  butcher  him  in  cold  blood.  Not  all  the  splendor 
of  imagery,  not  all  the  power  of  language,  the  smoothness  of 
verse,  or  music  of  rhythm,  could  ever  render  the  mifeminine 
perpetrator  interesting.  The  heroine  was  said  to  be  the  coun- 
terpart of  Charlotte  Corday.  No  comparison  can  be  estab- 
lished between  the  enthusiastic,  the  fanatic,  but,  withal,  em- 
inently modest,  gentle,  and  pure  French  heroine,  whose  brow 
blushed  even  after  death,  and  the  bold  vii'ago  who  made  lust 
the  minister  of  vengeance. 

This,  one  of  the  most  atrocious  stories  contained  in  the  Old 
Testament,  was  the  last  that  a  fair  authoress  should  have 
thought  of  picturing.  She  should  have  reflected  that  actions 
suited  perhaps  to  those  remote  times  were  not  presentable  on 
the  stage  of  the  nineteenth  century.  This  scene  of  debauchery 
and  murder,  in  which  wine  and  blood  are  disgustingly  mingled 
and  poured  forth  together,  in  which  treachery  and  lust  are  the 
actors,  where  descriptions  of  sacked  cities,  carnage,  pillage,  and 
revolts  are  tlie  interludes,  where  there  is  not  one  glorious  deed, 
one  magnanimous  action,  one  noble  or  interesting  personage, 
whei'e  all  is  abhorrent  to  nature — this  surely  was  no  subject 
for  the  pen  of  a  true  woman  like  Madame  de  Girardin.  It 
might  perhaps  have  suited  a  member  of  the  Woman's  Eights' 
Convention,  who,  possessing  none  of  the  charms  peculiar  to 
her  own  sex,  attempts  to  supply  the  deficiency  by  an  affecta- 
tion of  masculine  qualities.  In  France  no  sympathy  is  felt 
for  these  unsexed  creatures.  A  French  audience  could  not 
applaud  such  a  drama.  This  unjustifiable  crime,  this  kiss  on 
the  edge  of  a  sword,  this  deadly  hyena's  embrace — faugh  !  the 
thing  might  inspire  repulsion  and  horror,  but  the  tragic  ele- 
ments of  pity,  terror,  rage,  fear,  love,  are  all  wanting. 


126  MEMOIES   OF   RACHEL. 

There  remains  to  examine  by  what  miracles  of  poesy,  by 
what  eiforts  of  genius  it  was  sought  to  render  this  atrocious 
compound  acceptable. 

The  first  act  opens  well,  and  gives  some  hope  of  excellence  ; 
the  second  and  third  are  below  mediocrity.  The  plot  and  the 
haracters  denote  a  false  conception,  a  lack  of  invention.  The 
triple  love  of  Holopherne,  of  Phklme,  and  of  Judith,  which  the 
author  evidently  thought  would  be  very  effective,  is  not  only 
cold  and  uninteresting,  but  it  borders  on  the  ludicrous.  The 
scene  where  Judith  bids  the  princes  "  down  on  their  knees," 
in  which  the  repetition  of  a  genoux  !  was  intended  to  be  sub- 
lime, is  laughable  in  the  extreme.  All  the  third  act,  with  the 
intrigue  of  the  pavilion  between  the  two  tents,  proves  a  bar- 
ren imagination.  The  invocation  oi  Judith  before  the  murder 
of  Holopherne,  intended  to  be  a  sort  of  imprecation  a  la  Ca- 
mille,  is  sheer  nonsense.  At  the  same  time,  the  style,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  verses,  is  clear  and  elegant  throughout  the 
whole  play. 

It  was  impossible  that  an  actress,  however  great  her  abil- 
ity, could  do  any  thing  with  such  a  part :  a  character  that  is 
inspired  by  no  strong  passion,  a  widow  without  real  grief,  a 
mistress  without  real  love,  a  fanatic  without  inspiration.  No 
one  is  tempted  to  repeat  the  exclamation  of  Racine  in  allusion 
to  the  Judith  of  Royer :  "  I  weep  for  that  poor  Holopherne,  so 
traitorously  done  to  death  by  Judith:'  None  of  the  dramatis 
jyersoncB  excite  compassion  in  Madame  de  Girardin's  tragedy ; 
if  any  one  deserved  pity,  it  was  the  actress  condemned  to  bear 
so  heavy  a  burden. 

And  this  was  the  play  that  Rachel  was  called  to  present 
to  the  public!  This  insignificant  characterless  heroine  was 
to  be  her  first  creation !  To  the  deficiencies  of  the  tragedy 
were  added  other  circumstances  that  were  considered  harbin- 
gers of  success,  but  which  proved  elements  of  failure.  The 
play  was,  as  is  frequently  the  case  in  France,  first  submitted 
to  the  criticism  of  what  is  called  a  "  private  reading."  A 
circle  composed  of  men  bearing  the  highest  names  in  France 
for  rank  and  intellect — such  a  circle  as  will  never  again  per- 
haps be  formed,  the  less  so  that  the  loved  and  lovely  point  of 
attraction  is  no  more — assembled  in  the  elegant  salon  of  the 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  127 

authoress.     In  the  middle  of  this  assemblage  of  critics,  all  de- 
voted friends  and  enthusiastic  admirers,  the  charming  hostess, 
with  large  blue  eye  gleaming  Avith  poetic  fire,  light  waving 
ringlets  and  heaving  chest,  in  clear,  musical,  eloquent  tones, 
pregnant  with  faith  in  her  work,  read  very  tolerable  verses  to 
ears  predisposed  to  approve.     It  can  not  be  wondered  at  that 
these  friends,  though  bearing  the  names  of  Victor  Hugo,  de 
Lamartine,  de  Balzac,  &c.,  should  have  proved  but  prejudiced 
judges,  and  should  have  lacked  the  prudence,  the  foresight, 
and  severity  that  dispassionate  critics  and  an  unbiased  public 
would  bring  to  the  task.     They  forgot  that  Judith  would  not 
always  be  presented  to  an  audience  of  friends  by  an  authoress 
surrounded  by  all  the  prestige  of  love  and  admiration,  reciting 
with  enthusiastic  conviction  her  own  verses,  and  who,  carried 
away  by  her  own  feelings,  weeps  herself  and  draws  forth  re- 
sponsive tears  from  her  audience.     The  consequence  was,  that 
when  these  same  approving  friends  found  the  real  public  cold, 
unmoved,  and  unadmiring,  rather  than  acknowledge  their  er- 
ror, rather  than  retract  the  mistaken  praise  so  prodigally  and 
injudiciously  bestowed,  they  found  it  more  convenient  to  shift 
the  blame  on  to  the  shoulders  of  Eachel.     That  the  actress  in 
this  ill-chosen  part  which  she  was  called  on  to  create  Avas  be- 
low her  own  level,  that  she  played  coldly,  without  soul,  heart, 
understanding,  conviction,  or  feeling,  was  true,  but  she  had 
sufficient  reason  for  this ;  it  may  be  added  that  she  was  yet 
too  young,  too  ignorant  and  inexperienced  to  "  create"  a  char- 
acter so  unnatural ;  she  could  have  recourse  to  no  antecedents, 
no  traditions ;  she  was  deprived  of  that  to  which  she  was  ac- 
customed to  look  for  support,  that  without  which  she  really 
could  not  act — the  rapturous  enthusiasm,  the  expectant  ad- 
miration of  the  crowd.     It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that 
the  result  was  the  downright  and  complete  failure  of  the  play 
and  the  actress.  • 

However  unfortunate  in  the  chief  points  of  the  tragedy. 
Mademoiselle  Rachel,  in  outward  appearance,  was  a  splendid 
Judith.  The  good  taste  that  had  presided  in  the  selection  of 
her  costumes  was  worthy  of  all  praise.  The  mourning  dress 
in  the  first  act  was  chaste  and  severe.  The  costume  of  the 
other  acts  was  resplendent.     The  dress,  of  a  pale  rose  color. 


128  MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL. 

embroidered  watli  golden  stars ;  tlie  purple  mantle,  the  Ori- 
ental scarf,  covered  with  exquisite  embroidery  ;  the  scriptural 
jewels  that  adorned  her  neck,  arms,  hair,  and  ears,  formed  a 
gorgeous  ensemble  that  did  credit  to  the  taste  and  erudition  of 
M.  Chasseriau,  the  artist  who  designed  the  costumes. 

Dui-ing  the  performance  of  "Judith,"  one  of  those  incidents 
that,  though  in  themselves  perfectly  insignificant,  often  upset 
the  best-calculated  plans  occurred.  During  the  first  act,  when 
the  hapless  Hebrews  are  lamenting  their  fate  and  implorino- 
the  assistance  of  Heaven,  at  the  most  pathetic  moment,  a 
small  gray  cat,  wearing  the  necklace  of  bits  of  cork  indicating 
her  recent  maternity,  crossed  the  whole  length  of  the  stage, 
gazing  with  astonished  eyes  at  the  dramatis  personoi  there  as- 
sembled. This  trifling  incident  called  forth  roars  of  laughter 
from  the  spectators ;  cries  of  puss,  xmss,  imitations  of  cater- 
wauling, and  comic  remarks,  were  heard  from  the  pit,  and 
even  the  wretched  Hebrews,  forgetting  the  terrible  thirst  they 
suffered  and  the  woes  that  afflicted  Bethuha,  had  the  utmost 
difficulty  to  refrain  from  joining  in  the  contagious  merriment. 
The  effect  on  the  play  was  very  unfortunate.  It  became  im- 
possible to  obtain  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  serious  attention  from 
the  audience,  notwithstanding  the  presence  of  Rachel — Judith; 
her  influence  was  great  indeed,  but  with  a  Parisian  public,  al- 
ways inclined  to  see  the  ridiculous  side  of  every  thing,  it  was 
quite  counterbalanced  by  that  of  puss  with  her  cork  collar. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel,  during  the  conge  of  this  year,  visited 
the  south  of  France.  Her  reception  was  extremely  flattering, 
especially  at  Marseilles,  where  it  had  even  been  arranged  that 
a  cavalcade  of  young  men  from  the  city  should  go  some  dis- 
tance to  meet  and  bring  her  into  it  in  triumphant  procession. 
Unfortunately  for  the  plans  of  these  enthusiastic  young  squires, 
the  lady  they  intended  to  honor  entered  the  city  before  the 
^our  she  was  expected.  The  musicians  of  the  Grand  The'atre 
were  more  fortunate  in  the  accomplishment  of  their  inten- 
tions ;  they  executed  their  projected  serenade  under  her  win- 
dows, much  to  her  and  their  own  satisfaction. 

The  provincial  press  had  enough  to  do  to  record  the  trium- 
phant progress  of  Mademoiselle  Eachel.  The  receipts  of  the 
Marseilles  Theatre  amounted  to  the  hitherto  unprecedented 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  129 

sum  of  8000  francs.  The  highest  sum  ever  drawn  there  by 
the  presence  of  Tahna  had  never  exceeded  5500  francs.  At 
the  close  of  every  performance,  an  immense  crowd  accompanied 
her,  with  noisy  and  enthusiastic  applause,  to  her  hotel.  At 
the  close  of  the  second  performance  of  "  Andromaque"  she  had 
nearly  been  the  victim  of  the  admiration  of  the  hot-headed 
southerners.  The  wish  to  see  her  caused  such  a  pressure  of 
the  crowd  that  she  barely  escaped  being  crushed ;  the  inter- 
position of  a  number  of  robust  artisans  enabled  her  to  take 
refuge  in  a  shop,  whence  she  at  last  succeeded  in  reaching  her 
hotel  by  the  assistance  of  a  commissary  of  police  and  a  detach- 
ment of  soldiers. 

Every  movement,  almost  every  look  of  the  tragedienne  was 
trumpeted  with  all  the  amplifications  that  exaggerated  praise 
could  imagine.  One  little  anecdote  is,  however,  worthy  of 
note,  whatever  may  have  been  the  motives  that  influenced  the 
action.  Wliile  Mademoiselle  Eachel  was  at  Lyons,  she  was 
told  of  a  Jewish  family  that  was  reduced  to  the  lowest  stage 
of  Avant.  Having  ascertained  all  necessary  details  of  the 
case.  Mademoiselle  Eachel  repaired  on  the  following  day  to 
the  sixth  floor  of  a  house  in  one  of  the  poorest  quarters  of 
the  town.  Here  she  found  a  workman,  his  wife,  and  six 
children,  without  bread,  clothes,  or  shoes.  The  gift  of  300 
francs  which  the  visitor  had  brought  for  their  relief  called 
forth  a  torrent  of  blessings  and  fervent  thanks.  Not  content 
with  this  munificent  donation,  Mademoiselle  Kachel  stopped 
at  a  shoemaker's  on  her  way  home,  and  ordered  eight  pairs 
of  shoes  for  the  poor  people  she  had  just  left. 

The  presence  of  JMademoiselle  Kachel  at  Lyons  attracted 
numerous  visitors  from  the  adjacent  towns.  On  Monday, 
Wednesday,  and  Friday,  the  days  on  which  she  performed, 
the  public  edifices  were  thronged  with  strangers  whiling  away 
the  time  until  the  hour  when  the  doors  of  the  theatre  opened. 

Rachel  gave  twelve  performances  in  Lyons,  and  left  that 
city  on  the  12th  of  August  for  Switzerland,  where  she  was  to 
remain  some  time,  in  order  to  rest  from  the  fatigue  conse- 
quent on  her  continued  exertions.  On  the  first  of  September 
she  reappeared  on  the  boards  of  the  Theatre  Frangais. 

In  this  month  two  other  members  of  the  Felix  family  made 

F  2 


130  MEMOIRS    OF   KACHEL. 

their  debut  on  the  stage  of  the  Odeon.  Raphael,  then  seven- 
teen years  of  age,  and  Rebecca,  fifteen.  The  play  was  the 
*'Cid,"  and  whatever  amount  of  intelligence,  cultivated  and 
developed  by  art,  the  precocious  hei'O  and  heroine  might  pos- 
sess, the  effect  could  not  but  be  ludicrous — Liliputians  inter- 
preting the  actions  and  feelings  of  Titans — full-grown  actors 
seen  through  the  small  end  of  a  lorgnette,  were  the  ideas  they 
suggested  in  the  beholder.  There  was  no  lack  of  talent  in 
the  young  debutants,  especially  in  Rebecca,  though  it  lacked 
maturity ;  but  both  were  evidently  copies  of  their  successful 
sister.  Neither  they  nor  any  other  member  of  the  family  ever 
attained,  however,  to  her  height. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

1844. 
"Berenice."— "Don  Sanche  d'Aragon."— "Catharine  II." 

In  January  of  1844  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  revived  the 
"Berenice"  of  Racine.  This  play  was  written  in  1670,  when 
the  power  and  glory  of  Louis  XIV.  had  reached  the  climax ; 
when  all  things  had  reference  to  the  idol  of  the  day,  he  who 
was  the  Alpha  and  Omega,  whose  power  and  whose  amours  af- 
forded themes  to  the  greatest  poets,  men  to  whom  his  smile  was 
the  highest  reward,  his  frown  the  severest  punishment.  The 
episode  of  Titus  and  Berenice  in  Roman  history  was  suggest- 
ed to  Racine  and  Corneille  by  Henrietta  of  England :  she  who 
could  so  well  sympathize  with  sorrows  her  own  heart  had  ex- 
perienced ;  she  who  could  well  appreciate  the  victory  achieved 
by  duty  over  love,  for  she  also  had  been  victorious  in  as  hard 
a  struggle.  To  the  pure,  chaste,  and  sincere  love  of  Henrietta 
for  the  king,  to  the  chivalrous  and  passionate  devotion  with 
which  that  love  was  repaid,  to  this  mutual  affection  courage- 
ously resisted  until  esteem,  admiration,  and  respect  alone  sur- 
vived, we  are  indebted  for  this  splendid  elegiac  poem,  a  model 
of  elegant  diction,  of  pure  style,  of  exquisite  poetry. 

To  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  that  saw  in  every  line  an 
allusion,  in  every  character  recognized  a  portrait,  "  Berenice" 
was  full   of  interest.     But  this  picture   of  refined  and  pure 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  131 

love,  which  excited  the  sympathy  and  respect,  which  called 
forth  the  tears  of  the  brilUant  lords  and  graceful  dames  of 
Versailles,  could  have  no  interest  for  an  audience  of  the  nine- 
teenth centur}--,  accustomed  to  the  sanguinary  horrors  of  the 
modern  dramatic  school,  in  which  suicide,  fratricide,  bastardy, 
arson,  arc  the  themes  ;  in  which  crazed  imagination,  invoking 
all  the  evil  passions,  seeks  its  lieroes  and  heroines  beyond  the 
limits  of  Nature,  in  the  realms  of  the  Furies,  or,  degrading 
the  noble  Muse,  drags  her  through  the  purlieus  of  crime  to 
seek  her  subjects  among  the  denizens  of  the  bagnios  and  gal- 
leys. Tame  and  insipid  must  appear  the  chaste  Berenice,  the 
noble  Titus,  to  ears  satiated  with  modern  horrors.  Neither 
the  queen  nor  her  imperial  lover  lose  life  or  reason.  They 
do  not  threaten  to  make  the  world  rock,  or  to  destroy  the 
foundations  of  social  order ;  they  do  not  curse  all  mankind 
because  they  themselves  are  unhappy ;  they  are  uninteresting 
and  spiritless ;  they  prove  themselves  possessed  of  strength 
of  mind  that  saci-ifices  the  most  violent  passion  to  duty  and 
honor,  and  this  is  too  matter-of-fact  to  please  at  the  present 
day.  Nobody  pities  the  torments  of  these  separated  lovers ; 
the  heroism,  generosity,  and  delicacy  of  Berenice  find  no  ad- 
mirers, and  the  grief  of  the  master  of  the  world,  who  loses  a 
mistress  he  has  loved  already  five  years,  and  can  choose  her 
successor  among  all  the  women  of  the  empire,  is  still  less  un- 
derstood. 

"With  such  a  change  in  times  and  opinions,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  when  "•Berenice"  was  last  revived,  nearly 
fifty  years  had  elapsed  since  that  master-piece  had  been  pre- 
sented to  the  public,  and  that  the  revival  was  not  a  successful 
one.  All  the  interest  of  former  days  had  long  ago  died  with 
those  who  excited  it.  The  insatiate  grave  had  closed  over 
Louis  and  his  courtiers,  over  the  illustrious  and  virtuous 
princess  who  had  perished  by  so  foul  a  death,  over  the  lovely 
and  gentle  La  Yallierc  who  had  so  fully  expiated  her  one 
error :  the  chaste  love  depicted  by  Eacine  had  ceased  not  only 
to  be  felt,  but  to  be  believed  in. 

Ac^ainst  this  formidable  coalition  of  circumstances  the  young 
actress  was  called  to  struggle.  No  one  appreciated  the  ob- 
stacles.    She  was  required  to  excite  sj-mpathy  and  enthusi- 


132  MEMOIRS   OF    RACHEL. 

asm,  and  the  materials  furnished  her  were  the  cold  ashes  of 
passions  over  which  nearly  two  centuries  had  passed ! 

To  all  these  objections  may  still  be  added  a  stronger  one 
still  as  regarded  the  actress — the  part  oi  Berenice  was  ^yholly 
unsuited  to  her.  It  is  animated  by  one  passion  only  through- 
out the  play,  a  passion  as  gentle  as  it  is  strong — love  in  its 
most  tender  expression,  unmixed  with  anger,  scorn,  resent- 
ment, never  manifested  with  unfeminine  violence.  In  this 
roZe  Rachel  could  find  none  of  the  grand  effects  she  made 
such  fine  use  of  in  Camille,  Hermione,  Roxane,  and  portions 
of  3Iarie  Stuart.  Berenice  personifies  abnegation  in  its  most 
sublime  form,  therefore  Berenice  remains  calm,  dignified,  and 
serene,  even  in  her  deepest  grief.  She  is  the  heroine  of  a 
love  honorable  and  devoted,  of  duty  firm  and  unswerving ; 
her  heroism  is  not  noisy  and  tempestuous,  albeit  it  has  its 
struggles.  Berenice  is  the  very  opposite  of  Dido  or  of  Phe- 
clre ;  she  can  not  shed  the  same  tears.  This  last  shade  of 
difference  may  appear  of  little  moment,  yet  it  is  all-important. 
It  could  not  be  expected  that  Mademoiselle  Eachel  would 
succeed  where  not  one  of  her  own  grand  dramatic  character- 
istics was  brought  into  play,  and  it  seems  incomprehensible 
she  could  have  undertaken  the  part. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel  probably  chose  "Berenice"  on  ac- 
count of  a  fancied  resemblance  between  the  subject  of  that 
play  and  that  of  "  Andromaque."  Berenice  is,  it  is  true, 
like  Hermione,  forsaken,  but  the  causes  that  influence  the 
lovers  are  as  different  as  the  characters  of  the  princesses. 
Hermione  is  sacrificed  to  another  love,  Berenice  to  duty ;  the 
widow  of  Hector  is  the  rival  of  Hermione,  that  of  Berenice  is 
virtue.  The  passions  excited  are  very  dissimilar,  and  the 
qualities  that  make  an  excellent  Hermione  must  make  a  poor 
Berenice. 

Among  the  remarks  of  the  press  suggested  by  the  perform- 
ance of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  one  that  proves  her  politi- 
cal opinions  at  that  time  were  somewhat  different  from  the 
very  democratic  ones  she  found  it  to  her  advantage  to  exhibit 
four  years  later:  "The  lines  De  cette  nuit  Phenice  were  well 
spoken,  only  when  she  says  Le  peupk  !  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
sliould  utter  tlie  words  with  more  enthusiasm.     Le  jietiple  is 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHKL.  133 

not,  in  this  case,  the  people  of  the  emeittes  and  of  tlie  carre- 
fours — it  is  the  great  Roman  nation,  and  in  this  sense  the 
contempt  witli  which  it  is  mentioned  is  out  of  place." 

On  the  17th  of  February  she  appeared  in  the  rule  o{  Isabelle 
in  "  Don  Sanche  d'Aragon,"  which  was  never  repeated.  This, 
one  of  the  inferior  plays  of  Corneille,  had  neither  in  the  plot 
or  character  one  trait  suited  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  It  had 
been  altered  to  suit  the  modern  stage  by  M.  Naptal-Planat, 
but  was  not  more  successful  in  its  new  di*ess  than  before. 

In  June  the  tragedy  of  "  Catharine  II."  was  brought  out, 
with  Mademoiselle  Rachel  as  the  heroine.  There  really  seem- 
ed a  fatality  attached  to  her  creations  in  the  modern  drama, 
and  it  may  be  said  with  truth  that,  with  the  exception  of 
Virginie,  perhaps  not  one  of  the  characters  written  expressly 
for  the  great  actress,  during  the  whole  course  of  her  dramatic 
career,  was  suited  to  or  worthy  of  her. 

Poor  Catharine  II.  has  been  the  prey  of  novelists,  drama- 
tists, and  poets  without  count.  She  has  been  dragged  in  the 
kennel,  and  made  the  pai-amour  of  low-born,  brutal  soldiers ; 
she  has  been  accused  of  perpetrating  every  crime,  of  stooping 
to  every  weakness.  No  pity  was  shown  her.  She  was  a 
monster — there  is  no  rest  for  the  wricked — was  the  argument 
of  her  persecutors ;  she  shall  be  tormented  by  the  pen  of  every 
scribbler,  even  to  the  end  of  time. 

Certes,  the  Russians  themselves  must  be  very  much  aston- 
ished at  the  liberties  taken  with  the  character  of  the  gveat 
queen  of  whom  they  are  so  justly  proud.  They  must  be 
amazed  at  the  zeal  with  which  these  confounders  of  history 
pursue  the  memory  of  her  who  was  a  theme  of  praise  with 
the  philosophei's  of  her  day,  the  Queen  of  Sheba  of  the  wise 
Diderot  and  the  witty  Voltaire,  the  elegant  and  refined  woman 
who  introduced  into  a  barbarous  court  the  courteous  and  pol- 
ished manners  of  that  of  Louis  XV. 

As  a  woman  she  was  Aveak,  as  an  empress  she  was  great 
indeed.  In  her  soft,  gloved  hand,  the  brutal,  rebellious  Boy- 
ards  were  held  as  in  a  steel  vice,  Avhile  before  her  determined 
will  the  vast  forces  of  the  Ottoman  Empire  retreated  dismayed, 
and  the  ancient  limits  of  Russia  were  carried  beyond  the  Cau- 
casus.    Her  heart  knew  no  fear,  recoiled  before  no  obstacle. 


134  MEMOmS    OF    RACHEL. 

Her  great  crime,  the  one  that  has  raised  such  a  storm  of  vir- 
tuous indignation  over  her  tomb,  was  that  she  put  to  death 
her  liusband.  But  of  all  the  crimes  of  the  kind  with  which 
the  history  of  nations  is  filled,  not  one  is  so  excusable,  so  jus- 
tifiable as  that  of  Catharine  II.  She  acted  in  self-defense ; 
her  life  was  weighed  against  his,  and  she  inclined  the  scale  in 
her  favor;  between  killing  and  being  killed,  she  chose  the 
former;  she  turned  the  weapon  raised  against  life  against 
that  of  her  assassin.  The  insults  and  outrages  she  had  suf- 
fered from  that  barbarian  were  such  as  no  woman,  especial- 
ly one  of  her  temper,  ever  forgives.  Poetry,  and  history 
itself,  have  found  excuses  for  far  greater  crimes  than  hers. 
Those  who  reproach  Catharine  with  the  murder  of  Peter  III., 
a  hideous  tyrant,  whose  death  was  the  deliverance  of  all  Rus- 
sia and  the  salvation  of  numerous  victims  already  marked  by 
him  for  death  in  its  most  fearful  forms,  forget  that  this  fortu- 
nate revolution  was  accomplished  with  the  loss  of  a  single 
life  that  was  the  curse  of  a  whole  nation.  Those  who  take 
such  strange  delight  in  painting  her  failings  in  the  strongest 
light,  leave  her  manifold  great  deeds  in  the  shadow.  This  is 
a  miserable,  one-sided  way  of  reading  the  annals  of  time,  and 
an  in'everent  and  silly  jesting  with  its  most  important  and 
solemn  events. 

M.  Romand  followed  the  beaten  path,  and  treated  this 
grand  historical  figure  as  unceremoniously  as  his  predecessors. 
It  is  painful  to  have  to  analyze  this  wretched  perversion  of 
truth.  In  absurdity  of  plot,  in  want  of  taste,  style,  skill,  im- 
agination, poetry,  rhythm,  this  author  had  outdone  all  the 
stupid  productions  of  former  years.  Could  his  "  Catharine 
II."  be  played  in  the  style  of  a  parody,  as  the  "  Auberge  des 
Adrets"  was  once  played,  it  would,  without  the  changing  of 
a  single  word,  prove  the  most  amusing  farce  that  could  be  put 
upon  the  stage.  It  was  not  the  fault  of  Rachel  if  she  failed 
in  a  part  where  there  was  not  a  situation,  a  thought,  a  line 
worthy  of  a  tolerable  actress.  But  she  made  a  great  mistake 
in  accepting  it,  and  proved  a  great  want  of  dramatic  instinct, 
not  to  say  taste,  in  so  doing.  Talma  and  Mademoiselle  Mars 
never  thus  compromised  their  talents.  The  youth  and  com- 
plete literary  ignorance  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  might  prove 


MEMOIKS    OF   RACHEL.  135 

some  excuse  for  her ;  but  no  motive  could  be  found  that  could 
induce  a  manager,  a  coinitc  dc  lecture,  to  receive  such  a  piece. 
Low  indeed  muj^t  be  the  degree  of  debasement  and  degrada- 
tion to  which  literary  taste  was  reduced  when  such  a  play  was 
endured  to  the  end.  It  is  true  that  no  hisses  were  ever  heard 
then.  The  house,  filled  on  "  first  nights"  from  pit  to  gallery 
with  friends  and  paid  admirers,  has  no  seats  for  the  real  pub- 
lic. As  for  criticism,  the  cautious  circumspection  with  which 
it  touched  upon  the  demerits  of  the  woi-k  would  be  incompre- 
hensible were  it  not  to  be  conjectured  that  the  amiable  temper 
of  the  author  and  his  success  in  two  previous  works  had  dis- 
armed his  judges.  Criticism,  however,  while  it  respects  the 
person  and  private  character  of  an  author,  is  bound  to  treat 
his  works  with  severity,  truth,  and  impartiality.  ' 

The  sole  aim  of  the  author  of  "  Catharine  II."  seems  to  have 
been  the  creation  of  a  part  for  one  person.  By  the  adaptation 
of  that  part  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  peculiar  line,  and  there- 
by affording  scope  for  her  powers,  it  was  expected  that  she 
would  give  relief  to  the  play  on  the  mutual  support  system — 
a  verj'  mistaken  plan  iu  all  cases  where  every  other  character 
is  sacrificed  to  one. 

The  sum  and  substance  of  the  play,  disentangled  and  made 
clear — no  easy  matter — is  the  following :  Young  Iivan,  who 
has  some  rights  to  the  imperial  throne  occupied  by  Catharine, 
has  been  confined  in  a  fortress  from  his  infancy.  In  his  prison 
he  addresses  his  laments  to  the  passing  clouds,  to  the  mild 
spring,  to  the  mountain  flowerets  of  Russia.  The  empress, 
in  love  with  her  prisoner,  in  the  character  of  a  young  and 
simple-hearted  ignorant  maiden,  visits  him  in  his  dungeon,  and 
of  course  fascinates  the  unsuspecting  Iican.  The  situation 
has  the  merit  of  being  a  novel  one,  and,  as  such,  does  honor 
to  the  invention  of  the  author — the  despotic  Czarina  cooing 
like  a  turtle-dove  in  the  dungeon  of  the  cousin  whom  her  re- 
volted great  vassals  are  at  the  time  conspiring  to  seat  on  her 
throne.  The  love-making,  being  all  on  the  lady's  side,  is  also 
something  unknowni  in  the  code  of  French  gallantrj' ;  besides 
which,  it  turns  out  that  the  said  lady  is  no  longer  free  to  offer 
her  heart ;  she  has  already  a  master,  and  one  as  despotic  as 
herself,  who  follows  her  like  her  shadow,  and,  when  she  jxoes 


136  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

clandestinely  to  talk  platonic  sentiment  with  her  young  cousin, 
is  at  her  elbow,  dodging  behind  doors,  eaves-dropping,  &c. ; 
and  the  great,  the  all-powerful  Catharine  tamely  submits  to 
being  brow-beaten  and  insulted  in  the  foulest  terms  by  a  tall 
brute  of  a  soldier ! 

Truly  Mademoiselle  Eachel,  accustomed  to  the  high-toned 
respect,  the  refined  delicacy,  the  submissive  deference  of  the 
Greek  and  Roman  lovers  of  Racine  and  Corneille,  must  have 
felt  some  surprise  at  hearing  herself  treated  like  a  camp-fol- 
lower. But  this  is  the  modem  style  of  litei-ature,  and  when, 
as  it  usually  does,  it  chooses  its  heroines  in  the  kennel,  it  may 
be  very  appropriate. 

In  the  third  and  fourth  acts  we  have  quite  as  extraordinary 
flights  of  fancy.      Catharine  has  resolved  that  she  will  have  a 
decisive  and  public  manifestation  of  Iivaji's  admiration.     A 
grand  fete  is  given,  at  which  all  the  beauties  of  the  court  are 
assembled,  and  the  Czarina  herself,  laying  aside  for  an  hour 
the  external  attributes  of  power,  confiding  in  the  sole  prestige 
of  her  natural   charms,  mingles    unostentatiously  with   the 
throng  of  her  fair  subjects.     Iioan  is  introduced,  and  is  then 
and  there  to  say  which  of  the  ladies  he  will  choose  for  his 
bride.     If  these  are  the  privileges  granted  to  state  prisoners 
in  Russia,  they  are  not  much  to  be  pitied — a  call  from  the 
empress  in  the  morning,  a  sleigh-ride  at  noon,  a  ball  in  the 
evening,  and  a  bride  at  his  choice  among  the  first  and  fairest 
of  a  court !     No  wonder  Iivan  imagined  he  was  made  a  mock 
of  for  the  amusement  of  the  court.     The  rascally  Orlof,  Cath- 
arine's discarded  lover,  sets  the  stranger  right:  he  tells  him  his 
pure  maiden  love  is  the  imperial  widow  who  has  murdered  her 
husband.      Iwan  thereupon  insults  Catharine  before  all  the 
court  with   impunity.      This  tissue  of  absurdities  wdnds  up 
with  the  murder  of  Iican  by  Orloff. 

The  character  of  Iican  is  as  mistaken  as  that  of  Catharine. 
Condemned  to  captivity  from  early  infancy,  his  only  accom- 
plishment consisted  in  playing  checkers.  "Wlien  Catharine 
visited  him  she  found  him  half  an  idiot. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  this  year  that  Rachel  was  tempted 
to  take  the  part  of  one  of  Moliere's  sidvantes.  She  appeared 
in  Marinette  in  "  Le  Dfepit  Amoreux."     Phklre  and  Marinette 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  137 

in  the  same  evening!  To  unite  two  such  oppositcs  in  one 
person  may  be  possible,  but  not  in  one  like  Kachel.  Had 
Nature  intended  her  for  an  amusing  Marinette,  she  would  not 
have  given  the  attributes  of  the  panting,  trembling,  passion- 
laden  Greek  queen ;  the  noble,  severe  brow,  the  deep  eye,  the 
lip  paled  by  emotion  and  fevered  by  the  utterance  of  tragic 
anathemas,  curled  at  times  by  scorn,  but  never  parted  by  the 
light  laugh.  The  sceptre,  the  crown,  the  dagger,  the  pallium 
and  the  royal  mantle,  can  never  be  advantageously  replaced 
by  the  bundle  of  keys,  the  scissors,  the  short-gown  and  petti- 
coat, the  smart  cap  and  natty  apron. 

In  the  early  part  of  July  JNIademoiselle  Eachel  left  for 
Brussels.  The  six  performances  she  gave  there  amounted  to 
40,000  francs,  averaging  6G66  francs  each.  The  seats  were 
all  taken  beforehand  for  the  whole  time  of  her  stay,  and  the 
enthusiasm  she  created  was  no  less  warm  than  on  former  oc- 
casions. At  Lille  she  played  four  times,  each  performance 
averaging  5000  francs,  divided  equally  between  the  actress 
and  the  management. 

It  was  not  until  the  28th  of  December  that  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  made  her  rentrce  in  Paris.  She  played  on  the  boards 
of  the  Grand  Opera  for  the  first  time.  The  occasion  was  the 
benefit  of  Desmousseaux,  an  actor  of  the  The'atre  Fran9ais. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

1845. 

Reconciliation  with  the  Public. — Classicists  and  Romanticists. — "  Vir- 

ginie." — "  Oreste." 

From  the  beginning  of  the  year  1840  to  the  beginning  of 
1845,  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  notwithstanding  her  great  success 
abroad  and  in  the  Departments,  had  had  much  to  contend 
with  at  home — home,  that  is,  the  home  of  the  artiste — Paris. 
Some  of  the  grounds  for  this  have  been  already  given  ;  another 
important  one  remains  to  be  explained.  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
was  the  organ  of  the  Classicists,  their  support,  their  only  hope. . 
She  was,  therefore,  warmly  sustained  by  them.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  partisans  of  the  Romantic  school,  those  who  had  de- 


138  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

clared  Corneille  antediluvian,  and  Racine  obsolete,  attacked 
tlieir  works  in  the  person  of  the  oracle  of  the  dethroned  dei- 
ties ;  they  contested  her  triumphs,  exaggerated-  her  failings, 
and  refused  to  see  her  merits.  This  party  had  allies  in  the 
very  head-quarters  of  their  adversaries — in  the  Theatre  Fran- 
9ais  itself  The  management,  while  it  offered  to  the  public 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  with  Racine  and  Corneille,  was  eager  to 
take  advantage  of  the  vogue  of  Victor  Hugo.  The  warmer 
the  contest  between  the  antagonistic  schools,  the  larger  were 
the  receipts  of  the  house  when  each  assembled  its  followers  to 
decry  and  condemn,  to  praise  and  applaud.  The  drama  re- 
quired melodramatic  actors,  and  the  indignant  Classicists  be- 
held the  darlings  of  the  theatres  of  the  Boulevards,  Madame 
Dorval,  M.  and  Madame  Gorgon,  Madame  Melingue,  invading 
the  historic  boards  hitherto  held  sacred  to  the  tragic  muse,  to 
the  genius  of  Moliere.  Before  these  interpreters  of  a  new 
faith  eveiy  door  was  open  wide,  every  barrier  leveled,  every 
obstacle  removed;  while,  on  the  contrary,  those  actors  who 
could  have  rendered  able  assistance  to  the  classic  school,  who 
could  perhaps  have  revived  in  the  public  a  taste  for  the  old 
master-pieces,  were  kept  away  under  all  sorts  of  pretexts. 
No  talent  that  might  attract  the  notice  of  the  public  was  per- 
mitted to  stand  near  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  Whether  influ- 
enced by  the  avaricious  feeling  that  grudged  the  slightest  por- 
tion of  public  favor  to  another,  or  fearful  that  encouragement 
might  kindle  into  flame  some  latent  spark  as  yet  ignored  even 
by  its  possessor,  she  suffered  no  actor  or  actress  of  even  toler- 
able excellence  to  appear  on  the  boards  with  herself.  The 
system  was  fatal,  not  only  to  all  talent,  but  to  tragic  art. 
Whenever  it  was  not  her  turn  to  speak,  the  public  manifested 
utter  contempt  for  what  was  going  on. 

The  cool  indifference,  not  to  call  it  by  a  stronger  name, 
with  which  Rachel  herself  gave  the  example  of  this  conduct, 
was  productive  of  incidents  that  excited  the  derisive  laughter 
of  the  audience.  She  came  on  and  went  off  the  stage  with  so 
little  care  of  what  the  other  actors  were  doing  that  she  de- 
stroyed all  effect,  leaving  perhaps  Cinna  and  the  Emperor  Au- 
rjustiis  titc-u-tltc  in  the  most  difficult  moment,  when  the  empe- 
ror has  had  his  say,  and  the  treachex'ous  conspirator  has  noth- 
ing farther  to  add. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  139 

This  system  strengthened  the  arguments  of  the  partisans  of 
Victor  Hugo  and  Dumas,  and  it  required  all  Mademoiselle 
Rachel's  talent  to  sustain  the  cause  of  the  classic  drama. 

In  18io,  after  five  years  of  struggles,  during  which  the  pens 
of  her  decriers  had  known  no  rest,  she  seemed  to  have  ex- 
hausted their  animosity.  Even  Jules  Janin,  changing  sides 
with  his  usual  suddenness  and  vehemence,  was  once  more  loud 
in  her  praise  ;  from  that  time  her  reign  was  uninteiTupted, 
her  throne  secure. 

The  spring  of  this  year  was  marked  by  her  appearance  in 
"  Virginie,"  a  tragedy  by  M.  Latour  de  St.  Ybars,  founded  on 
an  episode  of  Roman  history  immortalized  by  the  genius  of 
Livy.  This  play  Avas  an  imitation  of  the  "  Lucrece"  of  M. 
Ponsard.  These  oft-told  tales,  these  worn  out  themes,  are 
associated  in  the  memory  of  our  childhood's  gi-ief  with  many 
a  sorrowful  hour  of  penance,  with  many  a  tear  shed,  not  over 
the  hapless  fate  of  the  heroine,  but  over  our  own,  that  bound 
us  to  the  wearying  page  when  the  bright  sun  and  the  song  of 
birds — happy  birds  that  learned  no  lessons ! — wooed  us  into 
the  free  air  to  add  our  childish  voice  to  Nature's  hymn  of  joy. 
But  modern  times  in  vain  proffered  scenes  as  tragical,  passions 
as  violent ;  the  bloody  crimes  it  has  pleased  capricious  man, 
reversing  his  own  laws,  to  sanctify  and  to  glorify  throughout 
long  ages,  the  suicide  of  the  patrician  dame,  and  the  infanti- 
cide perpetrated  by  the  plebeian  father,  the  one  inaugurating 
the  Republic,  the  other  overthrowing  the  power  of  the  De- 
cemvirs, both  adopted  as  the  pretexts,  but  neither  of  them  the 
real  causes  of  revolutions,  these  were  the  novelties  Messieurs 
Ponsard  and  Latour  St.  Ybai's  chose  to  revamish  and  vamp 
up  as  being  best  suited  to  the  display  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel's 
peculiar  style  of  tragic  excellence. 

With  what  success  M.  Ponsard  executed  his  task  we  shall 
not  at  present  discuss.  On  his  equally  difficult  one  M.  Latour 
St.  Ybars  exhausted  all  his  flowers  of  rhetoric,  all  his  collegiate 
erudition.  *  Every  reminiscence  of  ancient  lore,  every  record  of 
the  habits,  manners,  and  language  of  those  partly  civilized 
barbarians,  the  customs  of  the  forum,  of  the  battle-field,  and 
of  the  interior  of  their  houses,  are  pressed  into  his  service ; 
the  household  lai-es  and  the  pots  and  pans  of  Herculaneum 


140  MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL, 

and  Pompeii  were  scrubbed  up  and  crowded  into  the  picture 
without  regard  to  cost  and  with  indefatigable  industry.  Mod- 
em works  on  ancient  history,  or  on  the  Middle  Ages,  resemble 
the  catalogue  of  the  auction  sale  of  an  old  curiosity-shop. 
Corneille  and  Racine  disdained  this  clap-trap  schoolboy  erudi- 
tion ;  they  had  a  rich  store  of  ideas,  and  cared  not  to  show 
themselves  Roman  upholsterers,  tailors,  and  milliners.  Mod- 
ern poets  have  gi'eater  abundance  of  words,  yet  all  their 
crowns  of  oaken  leaves,  their  vervain,  saffron,  barley,  &c.,  &c., 
are  not  worth  a  fine  Latin  expression  skillfully  conveyed  into 
French ;  real  beauties  are  sacrificed  to  tinsel  and  meretricious 
ornament.  The  work  of  restoration  is  conscientiously  per- 
formed, and  the  result  has  been  about  as  beneficial  to  the 
present  age  as  such  restorations  usvially  prove. 

The  first  scene  of  "Virginia"  opens  with  a  monologue,  in 
which  the  soldier's  daughter,  about  to  quit  her  paternal  home 
to  accompany  Jcilius,  her  betrothed,  to  the  altar,  invokes  her 
household  divinities.  Here  the  poet  found  a  capital  oppor- 
tunity to  string  together  an  astounding  number  of  Roman 
formulas,  articles  of  creed,  points  of  belief,  forms  and  fashions. 
The  emptiness  of  this  accumulation  of  sonorous  old  scraps  of 
Latinity,  gathered  from  the  Gradus  ad  Parnassum,  is  not  no- 
ticed amid  the  grandiloquence  of  the  language  that  comes 
with  a  certain  grace  and  propriety  from  the  lips  of  the  young 
Roman  maiden,  arrayed  in  her  graceful  garb,  so  accurately 
copied,  and  giving  full  relief  to  the  lines  with  her  proud  brow 
and  intelligent  look.  The  old  senator,  Fahius,  who  comes  to 
complain  that  he  has  not  been  invited  to  grace  with  his  pres- 
ence the  nuptials  of  his  client's  daughter,  is  not  lacking  in 
eloquence,  though  the  history  of  the  war  and  the  deeds  of  his 
house  is  rather  lengthy  and  pompous,  and  seems,  moreovei-, 
uncalled  for  under  the  circumstances.  Virginhis,  on  his  side, 
is  not  to  be  outdone  in  eloquence :  when  reproached  by  Clau- 
dius with  wasting  his  hours  in  domestic  joys,  he  takes  occa- 
sion to  enumerate  a  series  of  ultra-Roman  circumstances  and 
particulars  quite  as  foreign  to  the  subject  as  his  patron's 
harangue. 

Thus  urged,  however,  Virrjinim  hastens  to  lead  his  daughter 
to  the  altar,  leaving  the   enamored  decemvir  to  inform  his 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  141 

client,  Mnocime,  and  the  anxious  public,  of  the  means  he  has 
taken  to  prevent  the  marriage  which  he  had  apparently  seemed 
to  hasten.  The  maiden  is  seemingly  beyond  his  reach.  She 
is  on  her  way  to  the  temple,  led  by  Fabius,  escorted  by  her 
father  and  her  promised  husband,  and  preceded  by  the  priest- 
ess of  Vesta.  But  Claudius  has  taken  his  measures  in  time  ; 
he  has  the  previous  eve  summoned  the  obedient  Flamine,  and 
commanded  that  a  prodigy  shall  prevent  the  present  union  of 
the  lovers.  The  father  can  not  wait ;  he  will  leave  Rome  for 
the  camp  with  his  intended  son-in-law,  and  the  maiden  will 
be  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked. 

The  scenes  that  follow  show  the  decemvir  has  been  obeyed 
—  the  gods  have  manifested  their  opposition.  The  return 
of  the  bridal  cortege ;  the  maiden  driven  from  the  temple  by 
lying  auguries ;  the  old  soldier  parting  from  his  child  and 
committing  her  to  the  protection  of  his  lares  ere  he  returns  to 
his  military  duties ;  Virginia,  filled  with  sad  presentiments, 
mute  and  motionless — all  these  have  a  fine  dramatic  effect, 
and  conistitute  a  good  first  act. 

With  the  second  act  commences  the  criminal  manoeuvres 
of  Claudius.  Virginia  enters  and  relates  to  her  nurse  how  a 
beldame  has  met  her  on  her  way,  and,  in  the  name  of  Clau- 
dius, insulted  her  with  the  oifer  of  his  heart,  his  wealth,  and 
his  power.  The  passage  in  which  Virginia  rejects  with  scorn 
and  indignation  the  gifts  the  tempter  has  sent  in  her  absence 
are  fine : 

"Et  ces  ornements  vils  qn'il  m'ose  presenter, 
Sont  faits  de  ce  metal  qui  sert  pour  aeheter ! 
Va  rendre  a  Claudius  tons  ces  dons,  et  sur  I'hcurG 
Les  presents  de  cet  homme  ont  souille  ma  demeure ; 
Et  ce  serait  blesser  notre  honneur  et  nos  dicux 
Que  d'y  porter  la  main,  que  d'y  jeter  les  yeux. " 

The  interview  that  follows  between  Claudius  and  his  doom- 
ed victim  is  a  long  one,  and  the  death  of  her  lover,  of  which 
he  informs  Virginia  to  prove  to  her  she  is  free  to  return  his 
love,  is  confirmed  by  the  vestal  sister  of  Icilius.  At  the  rev- 
elation of  the  bloody  catastrophe  that  realizes  her  sad  presenti- 
ments and  sundry  threatening  auguries,  Virginia  extends  her 
hand  toward  the  sister,  and,  fixing  her  dilated  eyes  on  the 


142  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

guilty  decemvir,  exclaims,  "  I  believe  you  !"  The  effect  of 
this  sudden  outcry  of  the  soul  was  very  fine  as  given  by  Made- 
moiselle Rachel ;  the  intelligence,  the  indignation,  the  expres- 
sion of  passion  in  the  eye  of  the  young  tragic  actress  gave  to 
these  simple  words  an  extraordinary  breadth  and  power. 

Though  the  main  argument  is  not  developed  in  the  second 
act,  these  preliminary  events  prepare  the  spectator  for  the 
more  violent  manifestation  of  the  passion  of  Apjnus  Claudius 
and  for  the  final  catastrophe. 

The  third  act  is  skillfully  and  boldly  written,  though  the 
poet  diverges  from  the  path  of  history  to  add  new  interest. 
The  chaste  maiden  is  not  permitted  to  await  the  sentence  of 
the  judge  in  the  hallowed  and  safe  retreat  her  father's  house 
affords.  She  must  be  exposed  to  the  horrors  of  a  night  pass- 
ed in  the  power  of  her  licentious  persecutor  ere  she  passes 
from  a  life  of  innocence  through  the  gates  of  a  violent  death. 
The  finale  of  the  third  act,  when  old  Fabius,  anxious  for  the 
honor  of  his  client's  daughter  left  to  his  charge,  whispers, 
"  Take  this  steel ;"  and  Virginia  answers,  "  I  am  free,"  ex- 
cited great  applause.  Another  passage  in  which  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel  produced  an  extraordinary  sensation  is  that  where 
Virginia,  confronted  with  Maxime,  who  claims  her  as  his  slave, 
exclaims  thrice,  and  each  time  with  increased  indignation, 
"  He  lies !  he  lies  !  he  lies  !" 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  in  the  fourth  act  it  is  night,  and 
the  iron  lainp  casts  its  beams  over  the  desolate  home.  Vir- 
ginius,  who  has,  in  blissful  unconsciousness,  escaped  all  the 
snares  laid  by  his  enemies,  returns  from  the  army.  Full  of 
hope  and  joy,  ignorant  of  the  death  of  his  son-in-law,  of  the 
danger  of  his  daughter,  he  enters  his  home.  The  manner  in 
which  the  evil  tidings  are  communicated  by  Fabius  to  the 
wretched  parent,  the  despair  of  the  two  friends,  the  terrible 
suspense  while  thought  recoils  and  hesitates  between  the  two 
equally  to  be  dreaded  alternatives  of  the  death  or  dishonor  of 
the  beloved  maiden,  show  dramatic  skill.  The  return  of  Vir- 
ginia, still  pure,  to  the  arras  of  her  father,  is  very  efl^ective,  and 
her  narrative  of  the  events  of  the  night  afford  scope  to  the 
poetical  genius  of  the  author.  The  fine  description  of  the 
wooing  of  the  decemvir  and  the  suicidical  threat  of  the  maid 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  143 

came  with  splendid  effect  from  the  lips  of  Mademoiselle  Ka- 
chel.  IIei*e  she  was  in  her  element ;  the  whole  of  this  part 
was  admirably  adapted  to  her  style. 

In  the  fifth  act  the  assembled  people  await  the  important 
decision.  The  iniquitous  judge  is  in  the  tribunal,  and  Vii'- 
ginia  will  learn  whether  she  is  a  free  lloman  or  a  slave.  But 
the  trial  of  the  past  night  has  exhausted  her  energy  ;  fear  in- 
vades her  heart ;  she  hesitates  to  leave  her  happy  home ;  she 
trembles,  she  would  delay  ;  she  feels  that  she  is  doomed  ;  that 
to  yon  cruel  man's  will  there  is  no  resistance  ;  from  him  there 
is  no  refuge,  no  appeal.  She  turns  to  her  father,  to  F'abius,  to 
her  nurse,  to  all  who  love  her,  imploring  mercy,  protection. 
Alas !  none  can  save,  and  she  is  compelled  to  bid  a  weeping 
farewell  to  her  home  —  the  home  she  knows  she  will  never 
more  enter.  This  beautiful  passage  was  delivered  in  tones  of 
deeper  tenderness  than  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  hitherto  been 
thought  capable  of  expressing.  Her  accents  of  passionate, 
melting  eloquence  moved  her  audience  to  tears. 

The  fifth  act  is  foreseen.  The  poet  had  it  ready  to  his  hand, 
written  in  the  happiest  style  of  the  Roman  historian.  The 
merit  of  M.  Latour  consists  in  his  having  adhered  so  strictly  to 
his  text.  He  could  not  follow  a  better  guide.  He  has  had 
the  good  sense  at  this  critical  moment  to  refrain  from  all  pe- 
dantic enumerations,  all  cumbersome  accessories  Avhich  would 
have  marred  the  tragic  effect  of  the  simple  fact.  He  goes 
straight  to  the  point :  his  heroine,  kneeling  and  imploring  the 
merciful  intervention  of  the  people,  is  true  to  nature  ;  she  in- 
dulges in  no  superfluities  of  language ;  she  weeps,  and  waits 
with  resignation  the  decision,  not  of  the  decemvir — she  knows 
no  hope  is  there — but  that  of  the  people.  Here  ends  the  part 
of  the  daughter,  and  here  begins  that  of  the  Roman  father. 
The  scene  between  the  parent  and  child  should  be  short,  for 
the  decemvir's  lictor  is  listening ;  moreover,  such  agony  will 
not  bear  prolongation  :  if  the  father  hesitates,  the  daughter  is 
doubly  lost. 

Virginie.  Ma  miire     *     *     *     n  faxit  moui-ir. 

Claudius.  Emmencz  cette  esclave. 

Virginius  (stabbing  his  daughter).  Elle  est  fibre ! 

The  cry  of  the  people,  "Death  to  the  tyrant,"  appropri- 


144  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

ately  closes  the  tragic  scene.  The  success  of  "  Virginie"  was 
real — was  complete.  Since  "Lucrece,"  no  modern  tragedy- 
had  met  with  such  acceptation  from  a  French  audience ;  but 
"Lucrece"  was  in  a  few  days  laid  upon  the  shelf,  while  "  Vir- 
ginie," sustained  by  the  talent  of  Mademoiselle  Eachel,  was 
long  played.  In  this  role,  which  was  admirably  well  adapt- 
ed, especially  in  some  of  the  scenes — that  with  Apjnus  Clau- 
dius, for  instance — to  her  powers,  the  actress  rose  to  the  full 
height  of  her  excellence.  She  displayed  her  indomitable  ener- 
gy, her  perseverance,  her  strength  of  will.  She  felt  that  she 
had  her  reputation  at  stake.  She  had  failed  in  the  creations 
she  had  hitherto  brought  out.  Whether  the  failures  were  at- 
tributable to  the  plays  or  to  the  actress,  the  evil  results  were 
no  less  keenly  felt  by  her,  and  she  saw  the  necessity  of  proving 
that  the  fault  was  not  in  her,  but  in  the  materials  given  her. 
She  felt  her  sunlight  was  paling.  The  public,  ever  ready  to 
dispel  its  own  illusions,  to  destroy  the  idol  it  had  worshiped, 
was  beginning  to  show  carelessness  and  indifference.  Some 
great  effort  was  requisite  to  rouse  it  from  a  torpor  which,  long 
continued,  would  have  proved  fatal.  Had  she  again  failed, 
defeat  would  have  severely  shaken,  if  not  utterly  killed,  her 
prosperity.  She  rose  with  the  peril  of  the  crisis,  and,  achiev- 
ing the  most  glorious  triumph,  seized  with  firmer  grasp  the 
sceptre  that  was  sliding  from  her  hand. 

The  success  of  "  Virginie"  contented  the  public  for  some 
months.  In  June  Mademoiselle  Eachel  carried  it  into  Brit- 
tany. She  spent  her  conge  at  Nantes  and  Brest.  Her  tri- 
umph was  somewhat  less  agreeable  from  the  fact  that  it  was 
shai'ed  in  Lyons  by  the  actor  Ligiei-,  in  whose  praise  the  pro- 
vincials were  so  enthusiastic  that  the  Parisian  critics  were 
much  amused.  The  idea  of  placing  Ligier  on  a  line  with 
Mademoiselle  Eachel  fully  warranted  the  ridicule  with  which 
it  was  visited. 

On  the  Gth  of  June  Mademoiselle  Eachel  took  a  part  in  the 
celebration  of  the  anniversary  of  Corneille — a  celebration,  be 
it  remembered  to  her  honor,  she  had  been  the  first  to  think  of 
introducing.  She  was  so  charmed  at  this  time  by  the  success 
of  Virginie  that  she  forgot  how  inappropriate  was  the  costume 
of  this  rule  to  the  circumstance,  and  appeared  in  it  in  the  pa- 


MEMOIKS    01^    RACHEL.  145 

geant  got  up  in  remembrance  of  Corneille  in  lieu  of  choosing 
that  of  Camille. 

During  the  absence  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  her  sister  made 
her  dehid  at  La  Gaiete,  in  "  Le  Canal  St,  Martin." 

At  her  rentrve  on  the  Gth  of  September,  the  favorite  again 
found  her  Parisian  public  cold  and  sulky.  The  play  was 
«  Virginie."  The  first  act  was  received  with  indifference,  but 
the  talent  of  the  actress,  her  evident  wish  to  please,  dispelled 
the  cloud  at  last,  and  the  plaudits  were  loud  and  prolonged. 
It  was,  probably,  an  excellent  thing  for  Rachel  that  she  was 
now  never  received  at  the  very  outset  with  premeditated  ap- 
plause, but  was  compelled  to  earn  it  by  dint  of  talent  and  la- 
bor.    She  was  obliged  to  study,  and  dared  not  play  carelessly. 

In  this  month  she  appeared  again  in  Phedre,  a  role  she  had 
not  acted  for  eighteen  months.  The  improvement  she  had 
made  was  already  very  perceptible,  although  she  had  not  reach- 
ed the  perfection  in  it  which  she  subsequently  attained.  The 
house  was  filled  to  suffocation.  This  was  the  case  now  when- 
ever Rachel  was  to  play,  otherwise  the  Theatre  Fran9ais  was 
a  desert.  There  was  no  medium — the  house  was  full  or 
empty.  "  Phedre"  was  much  applauded,  and  the  criticisms 
of  the  feuilletons  gave  her  great  credit  for  her  performance  in 
the  difficult  scene  of  the  declaration,  in  that  of  the  impreca- 
tions against  her  muse,  in  the  scene  where  she  comes  on  to 
die — in  fact,  in  all  the  passages  where  there  is  more  energy 
than  tenderness  she  was  pronounced  admirable. 

On  the  25th  of  October  she  again  played  on  the  boards  of 
the  Opera  House.  The  performance  was  for  the  benefit  of 
Massol,  and  the  play  was  "  Les  Horaces."  During  the  first 
three  acts  the  public  was  attentive,  but  encouraging;  at  the 
fourth  the  applause  was  tremendous.  The  effect  this  fine 
tragedy  produced  on  the  stage  was  partly  attributable  to  the 
superiority  of  its  acoustic  construction.  This  point  is  not  so 
much  attended  to  where  the  house  is  not  exclusively  intended 
for  music,  and  it  is  a  great  pity  it  should  be  so,  as  the  enjoy- 
ment is  much  diminished  at  times  by  the  difficulty  of  hearing 
distinctly  in  every  part  of  the  house  what  is  said  on  the  stage. 

We  have  noted  so  minutely  the  fluctuations  of  public  favor 
and  the  difficulties  against  which  the  candidate  is  called  to 

G 


146  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

struggle  as  an  encouragement  to  future  aspirants  whose  pa- 
tience and  perseverance  may  be  in  danger  of  giving  way  before 
a  discontented  audience.  The  example  afforded  in  this  in- 
stance may  prove  useful  to  others.  It  is  said  that  "  faint 
heart  never  won  fair  lady :"  the  public  is  harder  to  satisfy, 
and  far  more  exacting,  than  the  veriest  coquette. 

The  close  of  this  year  witnessed  a  vain  attempt  to  resusci- 
tate Voltaire's  tragedy  of  "  Orestes,"  which  had  not  been  act- 
ed since  the  year  1750.  Eachel,  tempted  by  the  role  oi  Elec- 
tra,  did  not  reflect  on  the  innumerable  difficulties  she  would 
encounter  in  bringing  to  life  this  dead  play.  She  made  in- 
credible efforts,  and  only  succeeded  in  galvanizing  it  moment- 
arily. All  her  talent  could  not  make  it  acceptable  with  the 
public :  she  spent  her  breath  on  cold  ashes.  The  part  of 
Electra  is  monotonous,  destitute  of  grandeur  or  majesty;  its 
passion  is  worn  and  threadbare,  its  terror  and  grief  lack  the 
semblance  of  reality  :  this  spectre  of  the  past  bears  an  empty 
um,  and  it  was  in  vain  that  the  actress  who  had  evoked  it 
endeavored  to  excite  sympathy  or  interest  in  an  audience  as- 
tonished at  its  own  indifference.  Ccrtes,  had  the  play  been 
almost  any  other,  the  case  would  have  been  otherwise,  for  on 
no  other  occasion  had  Eachel  displayed  the  energy,  the  talent, 
the  courage  and  perseverance  with  which,  night  after  night, 
she  endeavored  to  support  this  unfortunate  "  Orestes."  She 
had  studied  well  the  character  of  the  Grecian  princess,  ani- 
mated by  the  one  sole  feeling — vengeance.  Even  amid  the 
rapturous  joy  the  recognition  of  her  brother  causes,  the  impla- 
cable, the  ruling  idea  preserves  its  sway :  she  is  already  long- 
ing to  place  the  dagger  in  the  hand  of  her  newly-found  brother : 
it  is  the  avenger  rather  than  the  brother  she  embraces.  In 
the  bitterness  with  which  she  replied  to  Chjtemnestra,  the  cold 
haughtiness  and  crushing  disdain  with  which  she  addressed 
Egysthiis,  the  eager  affection  she  manifested  to  Orestes  bearing 
the  ashes  o^  Plisthmes,  the  one  predominating  thought  is  ever 
uppermost.  The  spirit  of  the  Greek  dramatists  was  better 
expressed  by  the  actress  than  by  the  author. 

The  character  of  Electra  contained  in  itself  all  the  elements 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  could  best  use ;  her  great  powers  had 
full  scope,  for  here  was  every  passion  she  excelled  in  express- 


MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL.  147 

ing,  while  she  suiFered  no  restraint,  and  was  compelled  to  no 
efi'ort  to  curb  nature  or  delineate  the  softer  feelings.  Here  if 
there  are  tears,  Ihey  are  the  few  burning  drops  impotent  rage 
lets  fall.  That  Mademoiselle  Eachel  rose  to  her  full  height 
in  Electra,  and  that  no  character  could  suit  her  better,  all  the 
critics  of  the  day  allowed  ;  but  the  public  had  declared  at^ainst 
the  play  itself,  and  no  effort  could  change  that  determination. 
She  had  dressed  her  part  admirably.  Her  cold,  sad,  gray 
costume,  bordered  with  red  ;  her  slight,  delicate  arms  impris- 
oned in  iron  links ;  her  fixed,  stern  gaze,  and  brow  full  of 
strong  will,  gave  her  the  appearance  of  a  young  Nemesis. 

But  all  was  in  vain.  She  had  undertaken  an  impossibility. 
Orestes  was  a  rock  on  which  all  her  talent  was  wrecked.  The 
amount  of  energy  spent  here  would  have  set  up  a  worse  play 
on  another  theme.  The  other  actors,  amazed  and  terrified  at 
the  determined  perseverance  of  Rachel  and  the  apathy  of  the 
public,  hastened  through  their  parts,  eager  to  get  off  the  stage. 
One  alone  seemed  to  share  the  anxiety,  the  impotent  resolu- 
•tion  of  Eachel — the  young  Rebecca  aided  her  efforts  with  the 
despair  of  a  child  who  sees  her  sister  drowning,  and  would 
rescue  her  at  any  cost.  At  one  time,  overcome  by  emotion, 
seeing  Rachel's  unavailing  efforts,  she  threw  herself  in  her 
arras  with  a  cry  of  anguish  so  real  there  was  no  mistakinf 
the  poor  girl's  feeling.  The  house  resounded  with  applause 
for  some  minlites. 

And  every  time  the  play  was  given  these  desperate  efforts 
were  repeated,  for  Rachel  had  chosen  it,  and  she  would  not 
be  gainsaid — she  would  not  admit  she  was  wrong.  Unfortu- 
nately, she  bore  within  herself  the  worst  obstacle  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  this  battle  with  the  will  of  the  public.  Her  frail 
organization  was  opposed  to  her  strong  will ;  her  voice,  ex- 
erted so  valiantly,  at  times  utterly  failed  her;  the  passion 
that  burned  within  found  no  utterance.  Alas  !  all  this  talent, 
this  instinctive  knowledge  of  dramatic  art,  this  eloquence  in 
its  expression,  all  were  hanging  on  a  breath.  Even  then  was 
foreshadowed  the  dread  disease  that  was  to  make  such  havoc 
in  that  delicate  constitution. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  might,  perhaps,  have  succeeded  in 
persuading  her  audience   that  Voltaire's  wretched  imitation 


148  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

of  the  magnificent  works  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides  was 
worth  the  sublime  works  of  Corneille — that  this  wretched 
verse  was  worth  the  polished,  elegant  lines  of  Racine,  had 
she  been  ably  supported.  But  the  error  her  selfishness  had 
committed  was  now  visited  on  her  own  head.  She  had  wish- 
ed to  stand  alone  in  her  triumphs  ;  she  stood  alone  to  support 
this  crushing  weight.  She  fought  for  her  Electra  as  the  faith- 
ful fought  for  their  vanquished  gods,  and  found  strength  in 
the  imminence  of  the  peril ;  but  the  dastards  by  whom  she 
was  surrounded  did  not  even  make  a  stand  for  the  defense  of 
their  own  insulted  altars,  beneath  the  shelter  of  their  own 
profaned  temple.  Under  such  circumstances,  without  an 
army,  without  captains  or  soldiers,  in '  a  bad  cause,  victory 
was  impossible,  defeat  inevitable. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

1846. 


"Jeanne  d'Arc." — Rachel  m  Holland. — The  Theatre  Franijais  a  Land 
of  Promise. — Dissensions  with  the  Management. — A  Soul  of  Fire  in 
an  Envelojje  of  Gauze.  —  Mademoiselle  Clairon  and  the  Duke  of 
Choiseul. — Rumored  Conversion. — Cheap  Proselytism. — Amenaide 
without  aTancrede. — Death  of  Mademoiselle  Mars. — Retirement  of 
Joanny  and  Mademoiselle  Georges. 

In  March  of  this  year  the  "  Jeanne  d'Arc"  of  Alexander 
Soumet  was  revived,  with  Mademoiselle  Rachel  as  the  hero- 
ine. The  annals  of  France  present  no  finer  subject  for  trag- 
edy than  Jeanne  d'Arc.  On  no  other  page  will  be  found 
such  grand  elements  of  inspiration  ;  religion,  loyalty,  heroism, 
virtue,  are  all  united  here ;  yet  no  poet,  either  in  past  or 
present  times,  has  been  found  to  inake  good  use  of  these 
splendid  and  abundant  materials.  There  is  not  a  poem  or  a 
tragedy  in  any  language  that  does  justice  to  the  resplendent 
creature  that  casts  so  glorious  a  halo  over  her  age.  The 
fame  of  the  heroine  has  received  no  new  lustre,  no  confirm- 
ation from  the  degenerate  lips  that  have  undertaken  to  sing 
her  praises.  They  have  succeeded  in  dwarfing  the  more  than 
human  proportions  of  the  figure  they  sought  to  reproduce ; 
they  seem  to  have  looked  at  this  grand  image  through  an 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  149 

inverted  opera-glass,  and  to  have  given  us  the  Liliputian 
statuette  they  saw  there.  Nay,  among  the  most  gifted  chil- 
dren of  the  god  of  song,  among  those  who  could  best  have 
handled  a  theme  worthy  of  a  second  Homer,  one  was  found 
so  lost  to  all  sense  of  patriotism,  honor,  honesty,  gratitude, 
and  truth,  so  degraded  in  mind,  so  perverted  in  heart,  so 
crazed  by  mistaken  vanity,  so  sunk  to  the  lowest  depths  of 
cynicism,  as  to  spit  venom  on  the  immaculate  fame  of  that 
sainted  maiden-warrior  who  rescued  his  forefathers  from  the 
yoke  of  the  usurper,  who  gave  new  being,  new  birth  to  France, 
and  raised  her  children  from  the  oblivion  in  which  they  and 
their  memories  had  else  perished.  That  one  -VNTetched  poem 
suffices  to  stamp  infamy  on  the  name  of  Voltaire. 

Of  ajl  the  unsuccessful,  weak,  paltry  trash  that  has  since 
been  perpetrated  on  this  theme,  M.  Soumet's  tragedv  is  per- 
haps the  worst.  This  wretched  compound  of  unskillful  lies, 
trivial  inventions,  and  childish  contrivances  could  not  be  suc- 
cessful even  when  administered  by  Kachel. 

In  the  soul-stirring  pages  of  a  prose  wi-iter — of  a  Michelet 
only — can  we  find  realized  our  conception  of  the  representa- 
tive of  all  the  good  sense,  if  not  all  the  courage,  of  the  France 
of  1429.  His  pen,  inspired  by  real  genius,  guided  by  the 
spirit  of  everlasting  truth,  has  been  found  worthy  to  evoke 
this  sublime  image  ;  on  liis  palette  alone  have  been  found 
colors  to  paint  the  thunder-laden,  blood-tinged  clouds  through 
which  shone  the  star  that  led  France  onward  to  a  glorious 
regeneration. 

When  from  the  grand  prose  of  Michelet  we  descend  to  the 
puny,  halting,  miserable  pathos  of  Soumet,  we  can  not  but 
recoil  with  disgust  from  any  analysis  of  his  production,  and 
hastily  turn  away  from  these  five  acts,  filled  with  gibbets, 
dungeons.  Parliaments,  and  stakes.  Though  not  a  superior 
production,  Schiller's  "Joan  of  Arc"  is  still  a  master-piece 
compared  to  that  of  Soumet.  The  German  poet  has  brought 
before  us  the  whole  life  of  the  maid.  We  have  the  already 
chosen  girl  in  the  humble  home  of  her  childhood,  placing  on 
her  fair  tresses  the  golden  helmet  she  has  found,  and  dream- 
ing of  the  English  masters  of  the  fair  fields  and  towns  of 
France,  of  the  dishonored  crown  of  her  kings,  of  the  Jezebel 


150  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

queen-mother.  She  sees,  she  feels,  she  understands  all  the 
long,  fearful  series  of  treasons,  bloody  battles,  defeats,  pitiless 
massacres,  devastations,  pillages,  and  woes  numberless  and 
unutterable.  The  hand  of  God  has  lit  within  her  heart  the 
sacred  and  unextinguishable  fire ;  she  rises  and  follows  with- 
out hesitation  the  guiding  voice  that  cries  out  to  her  from  the 
desert.  This  is  better  than  mere  poetry :  it  is  historical  truth, 
and  herein  consists  the  merit  of  the  German  author ;  herein, 
too,  lies  the  crime  of  the  degenerate  Frenchman,  whose  touch 
contaminates  or  conceals  these  great  records  of  the  past. 
"Who  shall  dare  deny  the  divine  inspiration  when  a  nation 
becomes  regenerate  at  her  voice,  and  its  dead  hopes  rekindle 
at  her  breath  !  The  sunken  and  desponding  people  that  had 
lost  all  faith  in  its  king,  its  priests,  and  even  in  its  God,  hails 
the  envoy  of  pitying  Heaven,  and  recognizes  her  mission. 
She  baffles  the  world-wise  wisdom  of  theologians  by  her 
prompt  judgment ;  w^omen  admire  her  modesty,  men  her 
valor,  the  people  at  large  her  saint-like  beauty.  We  repeat 
it — the  German  poet  has  followed  history,  and  found  a  road 
to  every  heart.  The  Frenchman  followed  the  by-paths  of 
his  own  petty  invention,  and  wandered  into  the  realms  of 
obscurity  and  dullness. 

Unfortunately,  it  was  not  the  tragedy  of  Schiller  that 
Mademoiselle  Eachel  was  to  present  to  the  public ;  it  was 
the  nondescript  work  of  Soumet,  and  she  could  not  invest  it 
with  every  quality  it  lacked,  or  conceal  all  the  faults  it  had. 
She  made  as  good  use  as  it  was  possible  of  the  materials 
given  her.  Her  action  was  full  of  energy,  yet  she  had  the 
calm,  the  patience,  and  the  dignity  the  character  demanded. 
She  looked  remarkably  well  in  her  gold  and  silver  armor, 
her  coat  of  mail  and  gauntlets,  and  a  too  great  consciousness 
of  this  made  her  commit  the  error  of  retaining  it  after  the 
first  act,  forgetting  that  Jeanne  should  appear  before  her 
judges  in  the  garments  of  her  sex :  her  armor  was  one  of 
the  charges  brought  against  her  by  the  infamous  Bishop  Can- 
clion.  In  the  scene  with  the  Duke  of  Burguncly,  in  the  third 
act,  she  was  admirable.  In  the  death-seen^  she  was  a  model 
of  statuesqite  beauty,  enveloped  in  the  folds  of  the  banner,  and 
sinking,  overcome  by  the  pitiless  flames ;  the  banner  itself, 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  151 

however,  is  an  absurdity,  as  contrary  to  good  sense  as  it  is 
to  the  truth  of  history.  In  the  first  place,  no  one  can  imagine 
how  the  French  banner  can  be  in  the  hands  of  the  helpless 
prisoner  of  the  English.  What  the  poor  victim  really  held  is 
recorded.  "  She  asked  for  the  cross.  An  Englishman  handed 
her  a  cross  which  he  made  out  of  a  stick ;  she  took  it,  rudely 
fashioned  as  it  was,  with  not  the  less  devotion,  kissed  it,  and 
placed  it  under  her  garments,  next  to  her  skin." — ("  History 
of  France,"  by  M.  Michelet,  vol.  ii.,  p.  152..)  There  is  no 
doubt  that,  had  the  reality  been  presented.  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  Avould  have  made  as  picturesque  a  use  of  the  rude 
emblem  of  salvation  as  she  did  of  the  banner,  and  the  effect 
would  have  been  far  more  pathetic.  But  that  the  actress  had 
a  great  fancy  for  the  theatrical  effect  she  imagined  she  had 
produced,  enveloped  in  the  folds  of  the  banner,  was  proved 
two  years  after. 

In  the  latter  part  of  May,  Mademoiselle  Rachel  set  out  for 
Holland,  intending  to  spend  there  and  in  England  a  conge  that 
was  to  last  two  months.  She  was  received  by  the  phlegmatic 
Dutch  with  the  enthusiasm  that  greeted  her  elsewhere — an 
enthusiasm  which,  at  its  pecuniary  value,  gave  a  result  of 
52,000  francs  in  15  days.  She  performed  in  Antwerp  on  the 
20th. 

In  Lille,  however,  her  success  was  from  some  cause  or  other 
not  as  productive  to  the  management  as  had  been  expected. 
After  the  fourth  performance,  M.  Bardon,  the  manager,  hav- 
ing exposed  the  situation  of  affairs,  by  which  it  appeared  he 
had  sustained  considerable  loss  by  the  engagement  made  with 
her,  Mademoiselle  Rachel  consented  to  give  a  fifth  perform- 
ance, the  produce  of  which  should  be  equally  divided  between 
the  manager  on  one  side,  and  M.  Genies  and  her  brother  Ra- 
phael, who  then  accompanied  her.  She  stipulated  as  a  con- 
dition of  this  unwonted  fit  of  generosity  that  the  scats  should 
be  given  at  the  usual  prices,  and  that  the  subscribers  should 
have  a  right,  as  on  ordinary  occasions,  to  their  seats.  Wheth- 
er the  Lillois  still  retained  a  lively  sense  of  the  injustice  done 
them  on  former  nights,  or  from  some  other  cause  of  dissatis- 
faction, the  house  was  not  better  filled  on  this  last  night  than 
befure,  notwithstanding  the  concessions  made. 


152  MEMOmS    OF    RACHEL. 

On  the  following  day  Mademoiselle  Eachel  was  attacked  by 
what  the  physicians  called  sporadic  cholera,  and  the  symp- 
toms were  at  first  such  as  to  excite  great  apprehension  in  her 
friends.  Her  prompt  recovery,  however,  permitted  of  her  pur- 
suing her  journey  to  London,  where  she  performed  twelve 
times  in  the  space  of  three  weeks. 

The  success  of  Rachel  had,  as  we  have  already  seen,  devel- 
oped in  her  brothers  and  sisters  an  irresistible  vocation  for  the 
stao-e,  and  one  aSter  the  other  they  were  forced  upon  the  man- 
agement of  different  houses  at  handsome  salaries.  Raphael, 
who  had  made  his  clebut  with  Rebecca  the  preceding  year  at 
the  Odeon,  made  his  debiit  this  year,  in  the  first  week  of  May, 
on  the  boards  of  the  Theatre  Fran(;ais,  in  "Les  Horaces." 
Sarah  was  at  the  Gaie'te ;  even  little  Dinah,  who  acted  the 
part  of  the  child  threatened  with  a  whipping  by  Argan  in 
"Le  Malade  Imaginaire,"  had  a  share  in  the  spoils  of  the 
Philistines.  Another  child  of  Israel,  Mademoiselle  Judith, 
also  made  her  debut  this  year.  It  was  jestingly  remarked  that 
the  SvaasofTue  was  removed  to  the  Theatre  Francais.  To 
one  fortunate  Hebrew  family  it  had  certainly  proved  a  land 
of  promise. 

The  continual  exertions  of  Mademoiselle  Eachel  had  told 
on  her  delicate  constitution,  and  on  her  return  to  Paris  in  the 
first  week  of  September  she  solicited  a  prolongation  of  her 
conge  for  two  months,  in  order  to  take  the  rest  she  so  much 
needed.  To  this  request  the  management  replied,  with  toler- 
able good  reason,  that  if  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  overworked 
herself,  it  had  hitherto  been  to  fill  her  own  pockets,  and  that 
she  could  not  expect  the  house  to  be  the  loser.  The  object 
of  a  conge  was  to  enable  the  actors  to  recruit  their  strength, 
not  to  exhaust  it.  The  dispute  Avaxed  high.  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  brought  forward  the  usual  excuse  of  illness,  and  could 
not,  or  would  not  play.  The  management  made  use  of  their 
right,  and  sent  the  physician  attached  to  the  theatre  to  ascer- 
tain the  truth  of  the  alleged  indisposition.  He  was  not  ad- 
mitted, and,  rather  than  submit  to  what  she  denominated  ex- 
actions, the  actress  sent  in  her  resignation  as  societaire  toward 
the  close  of  September.  This  was  the  commencement  of  the 
dissensions  between  INIademoiselle  Rachel  in  person  and  the 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  153 

management.  The  blame  could  no  longer,  as  during  her  mi- 
nority, be  thrown  on  her  fathei*.  These  quarrels,  though  oc- 
casionally healed,  continued  to  break  out  during  all  the  re- 
mainder of  her  dramatic  career.  The  resignation  sent  in  by 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  merely  intended  to  frighten  the  man- 
agement into  compliance  with  her  demands.  The  threat  was 
too  ill  grounded  to  be  effective :  the  resignation  was  not  valid. 
A  clause  of  the  decree  of  1812,  known  as  the  Decree  of  Mos- 
cow, and  which  is  the  charter  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais,  stipu- 
lates that  when  a  societaire  wishes  to  resign,  the  resignation 
must  be  notified  "  one  year  beforehand,"  and  the  notification 
must  be  also  reiterated  six  months  after.  A  societaire  must 
have  had  the  title  ten  years  before  he  can  resign.  Mademoiselle 
Kachel  had  only  had  it  eight  years.  She  had  been  elected  in 
1842  ;  but  the  title  is  retroactive,  and  counts  the  time  from 
the  entrance  in  the  Theatre  Fran9ais.  She  had  entered  in 
1838. 

Notwithstanding  this  fit  of  the  sulks,  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
came  again  before  the  public  in  October  in  "  Phedre."  The 
improvement  each  successive  year  witnessed  in  her  perform- 
ance of  this,  the  finest  as  well  as  the  most  difiicult  rale  in  the 
classic  repertoire,  was  hailed  with  delight  by  a  numerous  au- 
dience. Never  had  the  applause  been  more  frequent  and  sin- 
cere. It  was  on  the  occasion  of  her  playing  Phklre  in  the 
succeeding  month  of  November  that  the  following  anecdote 
was  related : 

The  tragedienne,  electrified  by  the  breathless  attention  of 
her  audience,  had  never  shown  herself  so  great,  so  sublime. 
Inspired  by  the  genius  of  antiquity,  she  was  the  personification 
of  this  delirium  of  passion,  this  mad  torrent  of  conflicting  ele- 
ments, exhaling  in  volcanic  accents  disdain,  rage,  love,  remorse, 
this  tortured  daughter  of  Pasiphie.  Among  those  who  seem- 
ed most  deeply  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  this  magnifi- 
cent specimen  of  di-amatic  art,  that  succeeded  in  drawing  tears 
for  sorrows  of  which  the  subject  stood  back  from  the  present 
generation  a  distance  of  thirty  centuries,  was  a  personage  who, 
between  the  acts,  divided  with  Phedre  the  attention  of  the 
audience.  This  was  the  Bey  of  Tunis,  a  man  yet  young,  with 
the  intelligent  look,  the  pensive  head,  the  sad  smile,  so  fre- 

Ci  2 


154  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

quently  the  characteristics  of  the  Oriental.  The  fixity  of  his 
gaze  seemed  to  denote  that,  notwithstanding  his  ignorance  of 
the  language,  the  eloquence  of  the  countenance  and  gestures  of 
the  actress  enabled  him  to  understand  the  play.  When  the 
actress  was  recalled  to  receive  the  floral  homage  showered 
upon  the  stage,  she  could  not  help  glancing  at  the  prince, 
who,  resplendent  with  jewels,  was  so  gravely  attentive  to  all  she 
did  and  said.  One  of  the  persons  present  in  his  box,  asking 
the  Bey  what  his  highness  thought  of  Rachel,  he  replied,  "  It 
is  a  soul  of  fire  in  an  envelope  of  gauze."  The  prince's  answer 
was  diversely  reported,  another  version  being,  '•  It  is  the  soul 
of  an  eagle  in  the  body  of  a  gazelle."  The  first  is  the  most 
natural  when  it  is  considered  what  a  frail,  reed-Jike  figure 
gave  utterance  to  those  violent  passions. 

The  sending  in  of  her  resignation  by  Mademoiselle  Eachel 
in  a  fit  of  anger  brings  to  mind  the  letter  of  the  Duke  of 
Choiseul  to  Mademoiselle  Clairon  on  a  similar  occasion,  when 
that  celebrated  actress  wished  to  give  up  the  stage  she  so  much 
regretted  afterward.  The  minister's  letter  contained  the  fol- 
lowino;  sensible  advice : 

"  If  I  may  be  allowed  to  advise  you,  mademoiselle,  remain 
where  you  are ;  believe  me,  and  rest  assured  I  speak  to  you 
as  a  true  and  loyal  confrere;  do  we  not  both  play  the  first 
parts  on  a  great  stage?  with  this  difference,  that  you  choose 
those  you  will  act,  and  I  am  obliged  to  act  them  all ;  you  ap- 
pear and  are  loudly  applauded,  I  am  most  usually  hissed ;  and 
yet  I  remain  on  my  stage.  Imitate  me,  and  you  will  not  re- 
pent ha\-ing  done  so." 

About  this  time  it  was  currently  reported  that,  abjuring  the 
God  of  Abraham  and  of  Isaac,  renouncing  the  creed  of  seventy 
generations,  Mademoiselle  Rachel  -was  about  to  become  a 
Christian.  As  is  usual  in  such  cases,  every  particular  was 
minutely  given  :  the  sponsors  were  known  ;  the  day,  the  hour, 
the  church,  the  minister  had  been  named ;  the  catechumene  had 
been  seen  with  contrite  look,  clasped  hands,  rosary  at  her  side, 
going  to  i-epeat  her  catechism  in  a  house  that  was  also  well 
known.  The  young  neophyte  was  to  receive  as  a  christening 
gift  from  her  godfather  diamonds  to  the  amount  of  50,000 
francs.     A  witty  feuilletonist,  recording  this  neicspaper  fact, 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  155 

added,  "Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  became  a  convert  for  the  sum 
of  three  francs  in  sous  !" 

Pending  the  confirmation  of  these  reports,  the  subject  of 
them  was  left  neither  quite  a  Christian  nor  yet  a  Jewess, 
hanging,  Hke  Mohammed's  coffin,  between  heaven  and  earth. 

In  December  Mademoiselle  Kachel  again  played  Amendide 
in  "Tancrede."  Five  years  had  elapsed  since  that  tragedy 
had  been  revived  for  her,  but  all  her  efforts  to  render  it  ac- 
ceptable to  the  public  were  unavailing.  Yet  this  "Tancrede," 
founded  on  one  of  the  most  charming  passages  of  Ariosto's 
poem,  is  one  of  Voltaire's  best  plays,  and  is  really  full  of  in- 
terest. Amena'ide,  the  chivalrous  heroine  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
half  Oriental  and  half  French,  is  a  very  brilliant  and  fascina- 
ting character ;  yet,  notwithstanding  her  passionate  love,  her 
despair,  and  hei^  splendid  costume,  she  could  not,  even  when 
represented  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  find  favor  with  the 
public.  Not  that  the  actress  lacked  talent  in  this  role,  or 
was  wanting  in  zeal ;  the  fault  was  not  in  her.  What  was 
wanting  was  a  Tancrede.  When  the  knight,  whose  great 
deeds  and  passionate  love  constitute  the  chief  interest  of  the 
play,  has  so  incompetent  a  representative  on  the  stage,  the 
audience  can  not  be  made  to  accept  it.  The  work  has  the 
effect  of  the  play  announced  by  the  manager  of  the  itinerant 
company  as  the  play  of  "  Hamlet"  with  the  part  of  Hamlet 
left  out.     Tancrede  might  as  well  have  been  left  out. 

In  the  spi'ing  of  this  year  the  Theatre  Fran9ais  lost  three 
of  its  celebrities.  Mademoiselle  Mars,  whose  brilliant  dra- 
matic career  had  lasted  nearly  half  a  century,  died  in  March 
of  this  year.  She  had  retired  from  the  stage  some  few  years 
before.  Joanny,  the  last  remaining  tragic  actor  of  any  excel- 
lence, the  last  of  the  Horatii,  retired  from  the  stage  in  the 
month  of  April.  Mademoiselle  Georges  retired  in  the  month 
of  June.  Her  health  no  longer  permitted  her  to  undergo  the 
fatigue  that  attended  the  discharge  of  her  professional  duties 
on  the  stage,  but  she  opened  a  class  of  declamation.  Among 
her  pupils  may  be  mentioned  an  actress  of  some  repute  in  the 
United  States — Miss  Davenport,  who  took  lessons  of  her  in 
1856. 


156  MEMOIES    OF    RACHEL. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

1847. 

"L'Ombre  de  Molike."— "Le  Vieiix  de  la  Montagne."— "Athalie." 
— "  Celimene." — "  Cleopatre." 

The  year  1847  was  inaugurated  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais 
by  the  revival  of  Moliere's  "Don  Juan"  in  its  original  form. 
The  occasion  was  the  anniversary  of  the  author's  birth-day. 
A  sort  of  eclogue,  written  by  M.  Barbier,  preceded  the  play. 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  and  Mademoiselle  Brohan,  personifying 
serious  and  light  comedy;  3Iercui^,  the  shade  of  Moliere,  and 
a  poet,  were  the  dramatis  personce  in  this  little  piece.  Made- 
moiselle Rachel  and  Mademoiselle  Brohan  were  dressed  in 
costumes  so  faithfully  imitated  from  the  Muses  of  the  Fontaine 
Moliere,  they  seemed  statues  chiseled  by  Pi-adier.  Prevost 
represented  Moliere  with  equal  accuracy  of  costume. 

The  success  of  "Virginie"  led  its  author  to  write,  and 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  to  accept,  another  tragedy,  "  Le  Vieux 
de  la  Montagne,"  which  was  brought  out  at  the  Theatre 
Fran9ais  on  the  6th  of  February,  1847.  Of  this  play  we  are 
tempted  to  repeat  what  we  said  of  Catharine  II. — if  it  had 
been  acted  as  a  parody,  it  would,  without  the  alteration  of  a 
word,  have  proved  a  most  amusing  farce.  Whether  the  ex- 
hilaration of  success  had  rendered  M,  Latour  careless,  or  wheth- 
er his  dramatic  inspiration  was  short-winded,  or  from  what- 
ever cause  it  might  proceed,  he  certainly  produced  a  most  sopo- 
rific, dull,  stupid  play,  destitute  of  style  or  grandeur,  without 
one  tragic  element,  without  one  interesting  personage  or  event. 
The  verse  is  such  as  any  rhyming  schoolboy  could  equal — flat, 
insipid,  commonplace,  showing  sense  constantly  sacrificed  to 
rhyme,  and  the  latter  not  always  successfully  achieved.  As 
iov  poetry,  there  is  not  a  line  in  it  from  beginning  to  end.  The 
events  narrated  are  supposed  to  occur  in  a  place  and  at  a  time 
famous  in  history — in  a  fortress  of  Mount  Lebanon,  during  the 
first  crusade  of  Saint  Louis;  but  the  dramatis  personee  axe  of 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  157 

no  age  and  of  no  country ;  indeed,  we  question  if  such  a  set 
of  double-distilled  fools  ever  existed  save  in  M.  Latour's  imagi- 
nation. As  Mademoiselle  Kachel  thought  fit  to  accept  the 
part  of  the  heroine,  we  ai'e  bound  to  give  some  analysis  of  the 
tragedy. 

Fatima,  the  daughter  of  Hassan,  the  chief  of  the  assassins, 
has,  during  a  skirmish,  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  knight  of  the 
Order  of  the  Temple,  the  Count  de  Sabi-an.  The  new  Scipio 
sends  home  to  her  father,  scathless  and  ransomless,  the  captive 
of  his  bow  and  spear.  Since  her  return  the  fair  maiden  droops 
and  pines  of  some  fatal  malady  not  in  the  books  of  the  learn- 
ed leeches  summoned  to  restore  her  to  health.  The  sapient 
doctors,  not  being  able  to  administer  to  a  mind  diseased  any 
better  than  the  modern  sons  of  Esculapius,  and  unwilling  to 
confess  their  ignorance,  accuse  the  Franks  of  having  adminis- 
tered some  secret  poison  to  the  prisoner  ere  they  restored  her 
to  her  father.  This  is  related  by  Hassan  for  the  information 
of  the  public,  to  his  prime  minister  Benitza,  with  whom,  to 
judge  by  his  familiarity,  he  appears  to  be  on  the  most  intimate 
terms.  After  narrating  how  quickly  and  safely  he  gets  rid  of 
his  enemies  with  ,the  help  of  his  faithful  band  of  assassins — by 
his  own  account  fully  justifying  their  appellation — the  old  vil- 
lain begins  to  fear  his  many  ci'imes  are  being  visited  on  his 
daughter,  and  talks  seriously  of  reforming,  and  making  war 
openly  after  a  more  respectable  fashion.  He  then  inquires  of 
his  minister  what  progress  has  been  made  during  his  absence 
in  a  matter  he  has  much  at  heart,  namely,  the  winning  the 
alliance  of  one  Ismael,  the  chieftain  of  a  horde  of  Bedouins. 
The  minister  reports  that  he,  Benitza,  has  kept  said  Ismael  in 
a  state  of  paradisiacal  bliss — that  is,  opium-tipsy — for  four 
days,  by  way  of  conciliating  his  affections. 

.  The  next  scene  introduces  the  new  ally  just  roused  from  his 
slumbers,  and  to  him  Hassan  announces  himself  as  a  "prince 
and  a  prophet,"  the  "  shadow  of  God,"  alias  the  ''  Old  Man 
of  the  Mountain."  Notwithstanding  the  omnipotence  these 
titles  infer,  he  requires  the  help  of  Ismael  and  of  2000  of  his 
lances,  in  requital  for  which  service  he  Avill  now  and  then  in- 
duct said  Ismael  into  the  garden  of  Eden,  i.  e.,  give  him  a  cup 
of  opium.     Ismael  does  not  seem  much  impressed  with  the 


158  MEMOIES    OF    KACHEL. 

magnitude  of  the  reward.  He  says  "he  don't  want  Eden,  he 
wants  JVIiss  Fatima."  To  this  point-blank  demand  the  loving 
father  instantly  acquiesces — he  shall  have  Fatvna.  Even  this 
does  not  satisfy  Ismael ;  he  imposes  another  condition :  the 
Franks  have  incurred  his  displeasure;  they  have  killed  his 
father ;  they  have  seen  Fatima  unveiled ;  he  desires  that  Has- 
san shall  forthwith  order  the  heads  of  all  Christian  prisoners 
in  the  fortress  to  be  chopped  off  and  set  as  ornaments  over  the 
gates.  The  father-in-law  elect,  forgetting  all  his  good  resolu- 
tions, consents  to  every  thing  without  the  least  hesitation,  and, 
as  he  does  not  do  things  by  halves,  he  summons  three  true 
believers,  picked  men,  first-class  assassins,  gives  to  each  a  dag^ 
ger,  and  orders  the  one  to  go  and  take  off  the  King  of  France 
before  the  walls  of  Jerusalem ;  the  other  to  stab  the  Grand 
Master  of  the  Knights  Templar ;  to  the  third  he  recommends 
his  daughter's  late  generous  host,  the  Count  de  Sabran.  For- 
tunately for  the  prisoners  in  the  fortress,  the  orders  for  the 
wholesale  murder  are  hardly  given  when  Fatima  enters.  In 
answer  to  her  fond  papa's  rather  plainly-worded  and  indiscreet 
question, 

"As  tu  vn,  dans  les  murs  d'Alep  on  de  Naplouse, 
Quelque  Emir  qui  fait  fait  souhaiter  d"eti-e  epouse  ?" 

Miss  Fatima  replies  she  wants  nothing.  Finally,  however,  she 
has  an  indistinct  remembrance  that  she  has  come  for  the  pur- 
pose of  asking  the  immediate  liberation  of  the  Christian  pris- 
oners :  their  groans  prevent  her  sleeping.  Isinael  is  rather 
disgusted  at  his  intended's  misplaced  compassion,  and  while 
the  point  is  being  discussed,  the  doomed  prisoners  are  march- 
ed across  the  stage.  Among  them  is  the  young  Count  de  Sa- 
bran.  Fatima  whispers  to  papa,  "  I  love  him."  Papa  respites 
all  the  Christians,  and  countermands  forthwith  the  orders 
given  to  the  three  assassins. 

In  the  second  act  we  have  M.  de  Sabran  in  his  prison.  In 
this  rule  the  author  can  not  be  accused  of  plagiary :  this  mem- 
ber of  the  church  militant  is  entirely  of  his  own  invention, 
and  much  too  good  to  find  a  counterpart  in  books,  and  still 
less  in  nature.  AVe  fear  there  are  few  feminine  hearts  that 
do  not  admire  Scott's  fine  creation  of  the  Templar ;  notwith- 
standing his  sins,  the  dark  lover  of  Rebecca,  finds  favor  with 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL,  159 

all  fair  novel-readers.  But  M.  Latour's  hero  would  accelerate 
the  heart-beat  of  neither  Jewess  nor  Gentile,  despite  his  many 
virtues.  This  monkish  knight  in  love  Avith  the  charming  pa- 
gan talks  continually  of  the  Cross,  tlic  Holy  Sepulchre,  chas- 
tity, eternity,  and  other  edifying  subjects.  In  vain  the  Old 
Man  of  the  Mountain  begs  and  entreats  he  will  be  so  good  as 
to  accept  his  treasures  and  his  daughter ;  in  vain  the  maiden 
makes  the  same  request ;  he  is  inflexible,  inexorable.  The 
complaisant  father  tells  him  he  is  free  to  follow  his  creed ; 
that  the  pope  will  cancel  his  vows ;  and,  as  a  last  argument, 
that  FaXima  will  die  if  he  is  obdurate.  Fatima  herself,  who 
does  not  care  a  pin  for  Mohammed,  offers  to  become  a  Chris- 
tian. She  is  answered  that  her  resolution  is  a  snare  of  the 
Evil  One : 

"  Votre  ccEur  rous  abuse  ; 
Des  esprits  de  I'enfer,  reconnaissons  la  ruse." 
In  a  word,  he'd  rather  die  than  be  made  happy ;  he  sighs  for 
martyrdom,  and  demands  to  be  immediately  assassinated  by 
the  assassins.  The  father  thinks  the  farce  has  lasted  long 
enough — so  does  the  public — and  orders  the  stubborn  young 
fellow  shall  have  his  wish.  Meanwhile,  as  Fatima  must  have 
a  husband,  he  makes  up  again  with  Ismael. 

As  for  the  Templai",  he  will  give  him  one  hour  more  to 
make  up  his  mind — to  choose  whether  he  will  endure  happi- 
ness or  death. 

"Et  quand,  I'beure  ecoulee,  il  faudra  que  je  sorte, 
Je  veux  que  du  chre'tien  on  ait  regie  le  sort, 
Je  veux  qu'il  ait  subit  son  bonlieur  ou  la  mort." 

Leaving  the  hero  in  this  dilemma,  the  curtain  drops  on  act 
the  second. 

After  all  this  ado,  no  sooner  is  this  exemplary  knight  alone 
with  his  confessor  and  the  public — and  Fatima,  who  is  eaves- 
dropping behind  a  curtain — than  he  sinks  on  his  knees,  and 
confesses  he  loves — a  woman.  Confessor  seems  to  think  that 
very  natural — so  does  the  pit — so  do  the  galleries,  whose  ap- 
probation is  rather  tumultuous  and  derisive.  That  woman  is 
Fatima.  This  the  monk  don't  seem  to  think  so  well  of;  and 
the  moment  there  is  the  slightest  opposition,  the  moment  he  is 
bid,  "  Pray,  brother,  pray,"  the  knight's  love  gets  as  furious 


160  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

as  it  was  cold  when  every  one  favored  it.  "  He  isn't  a  French- 
man— he  isn't  a  Christian — he  isn't  a  knight."  He  swears 
his  soul  belongs  more  to  her  than  to  God.  He  bawls  it  out 
aloud — so  loud  that  Fatima  is  bound  to  rush  in ;  the  father 
and  all  his  cortege  do  likewise ;  the  monk  is  ready  to  ask  a 
blessing  on  the  pair ;  and  there  is  great  rejoicing,  somewhat 
disagreeably  interrupted  by  the  news  of  the  return  of  Ismael. 

In  act  the  ioxxvih,  Ismael,  who,  on  the  faith  of  his  father-in- 
law's  word,  had  gone  out  and  obtained  a  signal  victory  over  a 
powerful  foe  of  the  latter,  returning  with  the  spoils,  is,  and 
with  good  reason,  quite  furious  at  the  change  he  finds.  The 
old  gentleman,  rather  puzzled  between  his  two  sons-in-law, 
tries  to  compound  matters  with  the  Bedouin  by  the  offer  of  a 
tent,  a  horse,  a  sum  of  money,  a  castle,  all  of  which  are  indig- 
nantly rejected.  To  settle  the  point,  the  two  rivals  get  up  a 
discussion  on  the  merits  of  their  several  creeds,  at  the  close  of 
which  the  Templar  offers  to  fight  the  Arab  and  two  of  his 
companions  all  at  once.  Notwithstanding  the  advantage  of- 
fered, Ismael  seems  to  think  discretion  the  better  part  of  valor, 
and  cools  down.  Fatima  makes  her  appearance  in  wedding 
costume,  and  the  lovers  are  going  to  be  united — we  are  not 
told  in  what  church — when  the  three  emissaries,  who,  in  the 
first  act,  had  been  sent  out  on  pressing  pi'ivate  business,  come 
to  report  themselves.  Their  master,  who  has  a  conveniently 
short  memoiy  at  times,  pretends  not  to  recognize  them,  but 
Ismael  insists  on  explaining ;  thereupon,  one  after  the  other, 
these  agents  of  darkness  deliver  themselves  of  their  fatal  secret. 
The  old  gentleman  vainly  tries  to  make  them  hold  their  tongues  ; 
they  are  quite  too  proud  of  their  exploits.  One  has  caused 
the  King  of  France  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies ;  the 
other  has  killed  the  Grand  Master ;  the  third  has  sent  the  old 
Count  de  Sabran  to  his  long  account.  Here's  a  piece  of  work. 
Of  course,  the  Templar  is  mad  with  grief;  he  won't  hear  of 
Fatima  or  of  an  alliance  with  murderers  ;  he  is  once  more  "  a 
Christian,  a  Frenchman,  a  Templar ;"  he  clamorously  demands 
his  prison,  chains,  and  instant  death.  Father-in-law,  out  of 
patience,  orders  his  head  off  for  the  third  time.  Then  comes 
a  terrible  to-do  between  the  loving  father  and  daughter.  Now 
that  the  knight  has  real  cause  to  refuse  his  daughter,  the  old 


MEMOIKS    OP   KACUEL.  161 

land-piratc  is  quite  enraged.  This  time  he  is  ten  times  more 
exacting:  the  Templar  must  purchase  life  at  a  dearer  cost: 
he  must  blaspheme  his  God,  he  must  spit  upon  the  Cross,  and 
he  must  marry  Fatima  into  the  bargain.  As  a  last  argument 
to  save  the  Christian,  the  lady  draws  her  dagger ;  every  one 
has  the  little  professional  tool  at  hand  in  this  family.  If  the 
sword  falls  on  his  throat,  the  dagger  enters  the  heart.  Once 
more  the  order  for  his  death  is  countermanded,  and  the  fourth 
act  is  brought  to  a  close. 

It  must  be  confessed  the  poor  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain 
has  some  trouble  to  get  his  only  daughter  off  his  hands.  She 
is  a  great  deal  more  obstinate  than  her  father.  She  will  take 
none  other  for  her  husband  than  the  Christian,  who,  en  his 
side,  can't  make  up  his  mind  if  he  will  take  her :  at  first  he 
won't,  then  he  will,  then  again  he  won't,  then  again  he  will, 
and  at  last  he  is  not  quite  sure  Avhether  he  will  or  he  won't. 
The  doubt  is  cut  short  by  Ismacl,  who  comes  to  besiege  the 
fortress ;  the  Templar  sallies  forth  in  defense,  conquers  the 
foe,  is  mortally  wounded,  and  brought  in  to  die.  Fatima  falls 
dead  by  his  side,  and  the  curtain  drops.  It  really  is  quite  a 
relief  to  see  the  perplexed  old  man  rid  of  his  two  troublesome 
sons-in-lavt',  between  whom  he  keeps  his  daughter  going  back- 
ward and  forward  like  a  shuttlecock  during  five  acts,  while 
he  is  himself  in  hot  water  all  the  time. 

"  Le  "V'ieux  de  la  ^Montague"  was  performed  but  twice.  The 
failure  was  too  complete  to  permit  of  any  fresh  attempt  in  it, 
and  INIademoiselle  Kachel  was  fain  to  seek  consolation  in  the 
old  repertoire. 

On  the  fifth  of  the  following  month  the  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais  revived  •' Athalie."'  The  cast  was  as  good  as  it  possibly 
could  be  in  the  dearth  of  tragic  actors  the  theati'e  was  then 
suffering.  Ligier,  who  had  seen  Talma  in  his  great  part  of 
the  high-priest,  and  had  retained  some  of  his  fine  traits,  was 
really  a  good  Jocts.  Beauvellet  played  Abner,  Mademoiselle 
Eachel  Athalie,  and  her  little  sister  Dinah  the  child-king  of 
the  Jews.  Unfortunately,  her  choice  of  this  play  again  proved 
want  of  judgment;  not,  indeed,  because  the  play  itself  was 
poor — none  could  be  finer — but  that  the  actress  was  far  too 
young.     To  remove  this  objection  Mademoiselle  Eachel  had 


162  JIEMOIRS    OF    RACHEI- 

recourse  to  art,  and  succeeded  to  such  a  degree  of  perfection 
that  the  impression  produced  upon  the  spectators  was  exceed- 
ingly painful.  To  give  a  faithful  representation  of  this  almost 
centenarian  Queen  of  the  Jews,  this  daughter  of  Jezebel,  whose 
crimes  outnumbered  her  years,  the  actress  had  had  a  courage 
none  but  a  woman,  young  and  good-looking,  could  appreciate. 
Long  gray  locks  covered  her  own  dark  ones ;  her  delicate  fair 
skin  had  disappeared  under  a  vile  coating  of  sienna,  on  which 
a  steady  hand  had  pitilessly  traced  the  deep  furrows  of  time ; 
even  the  eloquent  lips  Avere  withered  and  disfigured,  while  the 
lithe,  graceful  form  was  lost  in  the  thick  folds  with  which  it 
was  swathed  to  give  it  the  stouter  proportions  of  age.  The 
thing  was  overdone  :  it  was  not  Athalie  ;  it  was  some  hideous 
petrifaction,  the  mummy  of  a  crowned  witch  restored  to  life. 
The  effect  was  the  more  unpleasant  that  it  was  quite  unfore- 
seen. There  are  frequent  instances  of  young  and  pretty  ac- 
tresses disguising  themselves  as  old  women,  but  the  audience 
expects  the  metamorphosis,  and  the  deception  is  not,  as  it  was 
in  this  case,  carried  through  all  the  play.  They  return  in  the 
happy  form  of  youth  and  beauty  in  some  of  the  acts.  Besides, 
the  disguise  is  never  can'ied  to  so  painful  an  extreme.  The 
change  in  outward  appearance  seemed  to  react  on  her  perform- 
ance, which  was  feverish  and  unequal  where  it  should  have 
been  calm.  In  several  passages,  however,  she  was  very  fine, 
and  did  full  justice  to  this  difficult  part.  In  the  last  scene  of 
the  fifth  act,  where  the  queen  feels  herself  lost  and  gives  full 
scope  to  her  grief,  despair,  and  rage,  when  the  maddened  soul 
breaks  forth  in  open  rebellion  against  the  God  of  the  Jews, 
imder  whose  mighty  hand  her  power  is  annihilated,  she  rose 
to  the  full  height  of  her  grand  dramatic  genius. 

"Athalie"  was  played  at  the  Tuileries  before  the  royal 
family,  and  the  king  honored  Mademoiselle  Eachel  by  ex- 
pressing in  person  his  approbation. 

On  the  oth  of  June  Mademoiselle  Rachel  commenced  her 
performance  in  Amsterdam.  In  July  she  shared  with  Jenny 
Lind  the  favor  of  the  London  public.  She  gave  in  London 
twelve  performances,  playing  in  succession  all  the  pieces  of 
her  repertoire  witli  the  exception  of  "  Athalie"  and  "  Poly- 
eucte,"  both  of  ■\\hich  were  for  some  reason  or  other  pro- 
hibited. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  1G3 

It  was  during  this  London  season  that  the  tragedienne  at- 
tempted a  character  in  wliich  Mademoiselle  Mars  herself,  the 
greatest  comedienne  of  her  day — and  her  day  lasted  half  a  cen- 
tury— Mademoiselle  Mars,  with  her  long  practice  and  experi- 
ence of  the  stage,  her  voice  so  perfect  in  its  intonations,  her 
charming  smile,  the  aristocratic  ease  and  grace  of  her  manner, 
had  not  been  completely  successful  in.  The  character  of 
Celiinene,  in  Moliere's  "  Misantrope,"  requires  a  natural  gift 
as  well  as  great  study  and  a  habit  of  society.  That  Made- 
moiselle Rachel,  with  her  eminent  tragic  powers,  should  have 
completely  failed  in  the  delineation  of  this  admirable  ensemble 
of  grace,  ingenuity,  coquetry,  malice,  wit,  sauciness,  high- 
breeding,  gayety,  folly,  and  good  sense,  the  most  fascinating 
of  Moliere's  heroines,  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  Even  in 
London  the  attempt  met  with  no  encouragement.  She  knew 
better  than  to  repeat  it  in  Paris.  Several  tragic  actresses 
have  been  excellent  in  comedy,  but  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was 
exclusively  a  tragedienne.  Her  great  error  consisted  in  never 
weighing  Avell  her  powers  or  her  strength. 

On  her  return  to  Paris  Mademoiselle  Rachel  accepted  the 
part  of  Clcopdtre  in  Madame  de  Girardin's  tragedy  of  that 
name,  which  was  brought  out  on  the  13th  of  November. 

The  only  objection  she  made  to  the  play  was  that  the 
authoress  had  given  so  plebeian  a  name  to  the  lover  of  the 
Queen  of  Egypt.  She  thought  something  better  might  have 
been  chosen  than  Anthonij  for  the  name  of  the  hero. 

The  number  of  times  this  oft-told  tale  has  been  dramatized 
should,  one  would  imagine,  discourage  any  fresh  attempt  of 
the  kind.  Besides  the  many  Ckopatras  that  have  been  buried 
in  the  sea  of  oblivion  as  soon  as  born,  and  of  which  notices  in 
dramatic  catalogues  alone  remain  to  tell  that  ever  they  exist- 
ed, there  are  extant  above  thirty  tragedies  in  various  lan- 
guages, of  which  Cleopatra  is  the  heroine.  There  are  sixteen 
French  ones,  of  which  Marmontel's — a  weak,  frigid  produc- 
tion in  the  old  classic  style — was  the  best.  Of  four  Italian 
ones,  that  of  Alfieri  alone  has  won  a  distinguished  place  in 
point  of  literary  merit.  His  heroine  is,  howeVter,  a  hard, 
treacherous,  selfish,  ambitious,  and  wicked  woman,  less  true 
to  history  and  far  less  brilliant  than  the  bewitching,  fasci- 


164  BIEMOIES    OF   RACHEL. 

nating  creation  of  Shakspeare.  As  a  work  of  real  genius, 
however,  it  ranks  deservedly  high.  The  Germans  have  "  Octa- 
via"  of  Kotzebue,  that  has  not  been  able  to  keep  its  place  on 
the  German  stage,  or  to  win  one  in  literatui-e.  With  Shak- 
speare leading  the  van;  with  Corneille's  "Pompey,"  so  full 
of  the  noblest  passages ;  with  Dryden's  "  All  for  Love,  or  the 
World  well  Lost ;"  with  Alfieri's  "  Cleopatra,"  full  of  thought, 
and  power,  and  bitter  passion ;  with  the  host  of  the  unim- 
mortalized  that  had  passed,  one  would  think  nothing  had 
been  left  unsaid  on  this  threadbare  theme.  These  considera- 
tions could  not  deter  the  French  poetess  The  following  is  the 
substance  of  the  five  acts  she  gave  to  the  Parisian  public  ;  the 
reader  may  judge,  more  or  less,  whether  the  additions  made 
to  the  text  of  Plutarch  have  increased  the  interest  of  the 
original. 

The  first  act  opens  with  a  scene  between  Ventidius,  who 
brings  a  message  (never  delivered)  from  Antlumy  to  Cleopatra, 
and  Diomede,  her  secretary.  The  lengthy  speeches  of  these 
two  subordinates  take  up  almost  all  the  act.  They  are  plot- 
ting to  prevent  the  illustrious  triumvir  from  becoming  the 
sworn  vassal  of  the  fascinating  Egyptian  Circe,  and  one  would 
think,  from  Avhat  they  say,  that  the  lovers  had  never  yet  met. 
Ventidius,  as  a  Roman,  is  justified  in  fearing  the  ascendency 
of  CleojKitra ;  he  would  not  the  neglected  sceptre  of  the  world 
should  be  left  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  Octavius :  while  power 
is  equipoised  between  the  two  rivals,  Rome  is  tyrannized  over 
by  neither.  The  treachery  of  the  Greek  (his  name  and  con- 
duct lead  one  to  infer  his  nation)  has  no  apparent  motive. 
The  worthy  pair  freely  discuss  the  faults  of  their  respective 
masters.  They  inform  each  other  and  the  public — Ventidius, 
that  Anthony  is  a  vain,  weak  pi'odigal,  besotted  libertine ;  Dio- 
mede, that  Cleopatra  is  an  enchantress,  who  subjugates  the 
world,  and  is  the  slave  of  her  own  low  passions. 

This  dialogue  gives  the  authoress  an  opportunity  to  bring 
in  all  the  scraps  of  historical  lore  the  French  are  so  fond  of 
introducing  in  their  tragedies  on  ancient  subjects.  The  man- 
ners and  customs  of  Egypt  are  brought  in :  the  voyage  of 
INIarc  Anthony  from  Italy  to  the  East ;  his  mad  prodigality, 
that  distributes  the  plate  from  his  table  to  his  flatterers,  and 


MEMOIRS    OF   BACHEL.  165 

rewards  with  the  gift  of  a  house  the  cook  who  has  invented  a 
savory  sauce,  are  narrated.  Ventidius  seeks  to  learn  some 
little  peccadillo  of  Great  Egypt,  some  secret,  the  knowledge 
of  which  will  give  him  the  power  of  dissolving,  when  he 
thinks  fit,  the  spell  it  is  supposed  she  will  cast  TonnA  Anthony. 
Diomede  readily  furnishes  him  with  this  secret  power.  A 
Greek  slave,  a  workman  on  the  wharves,  had  dared  to  love 
the  queen,  nay,  to  declare  this  love,  and  offer  his  life  for  one 
hour's  return  from  her.  The  queen  had  smiled;  that  smile 
was  the  acceptance  of  his  love  and  the  seal  of  his  doom.  The 
hour  has  now  come,  the  slave  must  die ;  a  subtle  poison  and 
the  waters  of  the  Nile  will  obliterate  all  remembrance  of  this 
passing  fancy,  and  the  world  will  never  learn  that  Cleopatra 
could  stoop  so  low. 

Even  while  they  tell  this  fearful  tale  of  love,  murder,  and 
suicide,  the  slave  enters ;  he  grasps  the  cup  in  an  ecstasy  of 
delirious  love,  too  happy  thai  he  has  so  cheaply  purchased  the 
remembrance  of  such,  bliss,  and,  after  an  invocation,  in  twelve 
stanzas,  to  Death,  praying  he  may,  even  amid  hell's  tortures, 
.preserve  his  memory  green,  he  quaffs  the  fatal  poison,  and 
drops,  to  all  appearance,  dead.  At  this  moment  the  conspir- 
ators re-enter  with  a  leech,  who  has  a  sovereign  remedy,  if 
used  in  time,  that  will  counteract  the  poison,  and  they  bear 
off  the  still  living  body  to  be  made  an  instrument  of  when  re- 
quired. All  this  plot  is  agreed  upon  and  carried  into  execu- 
tion at  the  very  door  of  the  queen's  apartments :  neither  she 
nor  her  enemies  take  too  much  trouble  to  keep  their  secrets 
from  each  other. 

The  Cleopatra  of  Corneille  in  his  "  Death  of  Pompey,"  the 
Cleopatra  of  Shakspeare,  each  modeled  on  that  of  history,  is 
the  woman  who  uses  her  sovereign  beauty,  as  a  conqueror 
does  his  sword,  to  bring  to  her  feet  the  masters  of  the  world. 
Ambition  is  the  ruling  passion  :  she  .subjugated  Pompey  and 
Ciesar,  enslaved  Anthony,  and  punished  herself  with  death  for 
having  failed  to  conquer  Octavius.  Madame  dc  Girardin's 
Cleopatra  is  a  Messalina  on  the  pattern  of  Victor  Hugo's 
apocryphal  Marguerite  de  Bourgogne,  only  she  is  something 
baser  and  more  degraded,  but  she  gets  rid  of  her  low  amours 
in  a  similar  way.     The  poet  should  resemble  the  bee,  and 


166  MEMOIKS    OF    KACHEL. 

gather  from  the  rich  stores  of  history  whatever  may  be  used 
to  best  advantage  for  the  benefit  of  mankind.  He  has  no 
right  to  leave,  like  some  foul  reptile,  a  slimy  trail  over  her 
treasures. 

In  the  second  act,  the  Queen  of  Egypt,  reclining  on  her 
couch  in  all  the  pomp  of  Eastern  royalty,  is  surrounded  by 
her  sages  and  scientific  men.  The  high-priest  of  Hermes  is 
reading  a  passage  from  the  sacred  book,  by  which  we  are  in- 
ducted into  the  mysteries  of  the  Egyptian  cosmogony  and 
theogony.  We  learn  that  Athyr  is  Chaos,  darkness  profound, 
the  bed  'neath  the  waters  in  which  the  world  slumbered ;  that 
Pirami  is  the  day,  the  radiant  spirit ;  Kneph  is  the  creator,  fa- 
ther of  all  the  gods.  Phta,  his  son,  the  god  of  fire,  is  the  king 
of  thunder,  and  has  created  heaven  and  earth.  Typhon  is  the 
spirit  of  evil ;  that  of  good  is  Osiris,  the  brother  and  divine 
husband  of  the  immortal  Isis.  Toth,  the  revealer,  invented 
WT-iting  :  Toth  knows  all  the  secrets  of  nature.  Tmei  is  jus- 
tice, Athor  is  beauty,  and  both  uniting  produce  truth.  Amethi 
is  the  abyss  to  which  souls  descend,  &c.,  &c. 

The  queen  gives  orders,  resolves  the  different  questions  in« 
abeyance  in  a  very  business-like  manner,  and,  dismissing  her 
court,  remains  alone  with  Charmion  and  Iris.  From  her  ter- 
race she  watches  for  the  arrival  of  Anthony,  and  gives  vent  to 
her  passionate  fondness  in  accents  that  betoken  no  qualms  of 
conscience  for  the  crime  she  has  so  lately  committed.  That 
heart  has  evidently  never  had  room  for  any  but  one  feeling, 
and  it  is  hard  to  reconcile  its  impatient  yearnings  for  the 
presence  of  Anthony  with  the  slavish  inclination  attributed  to 
her.  The  speech  in  which  she  complains  of  the  drear  and 
heavy  existence  she  leads  in  that  land  that  has  no  spring,  no 
autumn,  no  winter;  where  the  foot  feels  beneath  the  slum- 
bering earth  its  generations  of  motionless  mummies ;  where, 
as  in  a  land  of  endless  murder  and  of  endless  remorse,  the 
work  of  the  living  is  the  embalming  of  the  dead,  and  the  most 
beautiful  ornaments  are  its  tombs,  is  very  fine.  Anthony 
comes  at  last,  but  only  to  take  his  leave.  He  has  been  told 
the  story  of  the  slave  ;  but,  though  his  jealousy  and  his  anger 
are  excited,  and  give  him  courage  to  leave  the  queen,  lie  makes 
no  charge,  gives  no  vent  to  his  secret  feelings :  this  is  unnatural 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  1G7 

and  very  inconsistent  with  the  violence  oi  Anthony's  temper. 
He  promises  to  return  in  two  days ;  he  goes  only  to  concert 
with  his  friends  in  the  port.  While  the  queen  is  watching  the 
vessels  in  the  port,  an  arrow,  to  which  is  attached  a  note,  falls 
her  feet.  The  note  contains  advice  of  the  real  purpose  of 
Anthony,  who  is  gone  to  make  friends  with  Octavius  Ccvsar 
and  to  maiTy  Octavia.  The  enraged  queen  will  follow  her 
recreant  lover,  and  snatch  him  from  her  rival's  gi'asp ;  she 
will  go  in  the  disguise  of  a  slave  ;  she  will  see  this  beauty  that 
has  been  Aveighed  against  hers  and  b,orne  away  the  prize! 
The  scene  m  which  the  queen  questions  Diomede,  who  had 
seen  Octavia  in  Rome,  as  to  her  rival's  looks,  is  a  veiy  poor 
imitation  of  Shakspeare's  scene  between  the  queen  and  the 
messenger  who  announces  Anthony's  marriage. 

The  third  act  opens  at  Tarentum,  where  Anthony,  already 
repentant  of  his  new  bonds,  accuses  Ventidms  of  having  calum- 
niated Cleopatra.  The  slave  has  not  turned  out  the  willing 
tool  he  was  intended  for.  When  questioned  by  Anthony,  he 
has  denied  all,  and,  accusing  Diomede  of  an  attempt  to  poison 
the  queen,  has  ascribed  his  own  apparent  death  to  his  having 
drained  unconsciously  the  poisoned  cup  meant  for  her.  He 
has  been  brought  back  to  life  to  serve  the  vile  purposes  of  his 
treacherous  savior,  and  that  is  all.  The  enraged  triumvir 
prepares  to  return  to  his  regal  love.  There  is  a  short  scene 
with  his  lawful  lady,  and  one  between  the  brother  and  sister ; 
the  last,  another  pale  copy  of  the  English  poet.  There  fol- 
lows a  very  short  scene  between  Octavia  and  the  new  slave, 
in  which  the  latter  remains  mute.  The  explanation  given  to 
I  ^the  Roman  mistress  is  that  the  girl  is  of  Athens,  and  speaks 
not  the  language  of  this  land.  After  a  soliloquy  of  Cleopatra, 
in  which  she  recognizes  and  envies  the  power  of  virtue's 
charms  in  the  person  of  the  lawful  wife,  vowing  she  too  will 
win  the  respect  and  honor  mankind  attributes  to  them  ;  that 
she  will  cflace  all  traces  of  the  past — a  spectre  of  that  past 
arises  before  her  affrighted  eyes — the  poisoned  victim  of  the 
first  act  enters.  An  explanation  follows ;  the  treacherous 
plans' of  her  foes  are  disclosed,  and  the  queen  is  assured  of  the 
devotion  of  one  vigilant  friend.  If  he  has  consented  to  live, 
it  was  to  watch  over  and  render  vain  every  attempt  against 


168  MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL. 

her — the  warning  note  that  told  of  the  marriage  of  Anthony 
was  his.  This  devotion  seems  to  excite  no  other  feeling  in 
Cleopatra  than  one  of  contemptuous  surprise.  To  this  tale 
of  devoted  passion  —  to  his  exulting  assertion  that  "  C'est 
avec  volupte,  que  je  mourrais  pour  toi!"  she  answe):s,  "Poor 
fool!" 

Indeed,  not  a  word  falls  from  the  lips  of  the  queen  during 
five  acts  that  justifies  the  story  of  the  passing  fancy,  and  we 
are  inclined  to  think  'with  Anthony,  "T'was  a  vile  slander;" 
as  for  the  slav«,  he  ^as  subject  to  strange  hallucinations. 
There  are  one  or  two  very  charming  passages  in  this  scene. 
Answering  CkopatrxCs  fear  of  being  forgotten  by  Anthony, 
the  slave  says, 

"Est  oe  toi  qu'on  oublie? 
Va,  tu  ne  connais  pas  la  force  d'un  regret, 
Ni  la  tenacite  d'un  devorant  secret. 
On  pent  vivTc  sans  pain  dans  des  murs  qu'on  assiege. 
On  peat  vivre  sans  feu  dans  deserts  de  neige, 
On  peut  vivre  sans  eau  dans  le  sable  Africain, 
On  peut  vivre  sans  air  dans  I'antre  de  Vulcain, 
Mais  dans  cette  demence  ou  ma  tete  est  bercee, 
On  ne  pourrait  vivre  un  jour  sans  ta  pensee  ! 
Un  jour  sans  t'evoquer,  .sans  t'appeler  vingt  fois, 
Sans  cherclier  a  surprendre  un  accent  de  ta  voix, 
Sans  aspirer  I'air  pur  que  ta  bouclie  respire, 
Sans  se  courbcr  joyeux  ct  tier  sous  ton  empire, 
O,  reine,  ne  crains  rien,  il  t'aime,  et  plus  encor 
L'avare  n'a  jamais  dedaigne  son  tresor, 
Et  celui  qui  t'aime  n'a  ni  repos  ni  treve, 
II  n'a  plus  qu'un  espoir,  il  n'a  plus  (ju'un  seul  reve, 
C'est  de  vivre  pour  toi,  de  te  donner  ses  jours, 
Et  s'il  soutfre,  sa  joie  est  de  souffVir  toujours." 

'[Clcopdtre  (^avec  une  joie  triumphante). 
*'B  reviendra!" 

L'Esclave. 
"Tremblant,  redemander  sa  chaige, 
II  t'aime,  il  t'aime  encor,  je  le  sens  a  ma  haine. 
Tu  pcux  me  croirc,  moi,  son  tourment  est  le  mien ; 
Va,  lis  dans  mou  amour  Ics  promesses  du  sien." 

Clcopatre. 
"Mais  n'est  ce  pas  sa  voix?  j'ai  cru  la  reconnaitre." 

L^Esclave. 
"Esclave,  cache  toi,  voici  vcnir  le  maitre!" 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  169 

A  very  short  and  pretty  scene  follows  between  Anthony 
and  Cleopatra.  They  depart  together,  leaving  Octavta  to 
weep  and  exclaim, 

"  En  vain  je  veixx  me  resigner, 
Je  donnerais  tout,  rang,  fortune,  renommee, 
Pour  le  honteux  bonheur  d'une  maitresse  aimee !" 

The  rivals  thus  made  to  envy  each  other,  the  mistress  that 
follows  the  world-honored  title  of  wife — the  wife  the  hap- 
piness of  being  beloved,  even  though  that  happiness  be  pur- 
chased with  shame — is  very  good,  if  not  new. 

In  the  fourth  act  the  Battle  of  Actium  has  been  fought — 
the  world  has  changed  masters ;  there  are  no  more  banquets, 
no  fetes,  no  Oriental  sun  gilding  the  orgies  of  Mars  and 
Venus:  all  is  blank  ruin  and  despair.  "Fortune  and  An- 
thonij  part  here — the  star  is  fallen.'  The  remainder  of  the 
play  is  a  close  imitation  of  Shakspeai*e,  in  all  the  scenes  of 
the  despair  and  death  of  Anthony  as  well  as  the  death  of 
Cleopatra,  with  the  exception  that  the  countryman  who  in 
the  English  play  brings  the  "  pretty  worm  of  Nilus,"  in  Mad- 
ame de  Girardin's  is  the  slave  of  the  preceding  acts,  who, 
jealous  of  his  cruel  mistress's  honor,  brings  her  the  means  to 
mock  the  power  of  Caesar.  The  authoress,  compelled  to  sup- 
press the  untranslatable  beauties  of  Shakspeare,  has  endeav- 
ored to  supply  their  place  by  the  introduction  of  a  feature 
copied  from  Dryden — the  scolding-match  between  the  wife 
and  the  mistress.  Shakspeare  carefully  avoided  bringing  the 
rivals  together :  there  was  the  danger  of  lowering  the  interest 
in  the  heroine  by  that  which  the  audience  must  take  in  the 
pure  wife  neglected  for  no  fault  of  hers.  Dryden  has  avoided 
this,  it  is  true,  by  making  Octavia  so  cold  and  unamiable  a 
character  that  no  one  cares  for  her,  but  he  has  done  so  at  the 
expense  of  morality.  Madame  de  Girardin  has,  in  the  scene 
between  the  mistress  and  the  wife,  made  the  latter  more  re- 
fined by  far  than  Dryden's,  but  no  less  cruel.  "When  the 
queen  and  her  attendants  ai'e  lamenting  the  death  of  the 
great  triumvir,  calling  him  thrice  in  accordance  with  the 
RomaiT  custom,  another  voice  suddenly  echoes  the  despairing 
cry,  Octavia  is  come  to  claim  the  remains  of  him  whose  heart 
was  never  hers.     In  the  name  of  his  country,  of  his  sons,  the 

II 


170  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL. 

wife  claims  that  the  victim  be  given  up  to  the  vengeful  gods 
of  Rome.  After  a  scene  of  mutual  recriminations,  the  widow, 
who  has  the  advantage  of  belonging  to  the  victorious  party, 
aided  by  her  guards,  bears  off  the  body,  and  the  mistress  is 
left  to  follow  the  soul. 

Octavia  was  evidently  the  pet  personage  of  the  authoress, 
and  for  her  Anthony'' s  worst  crime  is  his  criminal  love — a 
crime  for  Avhicli  his  subsequent  misfortunes  are  only  a  just 
expiation  of  the  contempt  he  has  shown  for  the  connubial  tie. 
Every  attempt  has  been  made  to  render  the  Eoman  matron 
more  interesting  than  her  Egyptian  rival,  but  in  vain.  The 
threat  of  Octavia  at  the  close,  "  I  will  live  to  see  thee  our 
slave — to  see  thee  chained  to  Octavius's  conquering  car — 
"  Je  virrai  pour  te  voir  noti'e  esclave, 
Pour  te  voir  attachee  an  char  vainqueur  d'CJctave" — 

is  mean  and  unfeminine.  This  ungenerous  treatment  of  a 
conquered  foe,  this  disrespect  for  the  fortunes  of  fallen  royal- 
ty, contrasts  with  the  calm,  deep  grief  of  the  queen,  who  bids 
her  attendants  allow  Octavia  to  enter : 

"Elle  Famait  aussi,  laissons  la  le  pleures." 
The  queen  is  right  when  she  tells  her  proud  rival  that  she 
will  not  follow  her  lord,  for  her  grief  is  too  noisy  to  kill — the 
grief  that  kills  is  less  proud : 

"  Va,  ne  te  flatte  pas ;  toi,  tu  ponrras  survivre, 
Et  tu  pleures  trop  haut  pour  mourir  de  ton  deuil, 
Une  douleur  qui  tue  est  moins  folle  d'orgeuil, 
Tu  vi\Tas." 

With  the  exception  of  the  introduction  of  one  new  person- 
age— the  slave,  who  is  in  himself  a  fine  poetic  creation,  though 
he  debases  the  queen,  there  is  nothing  new  in  Madame  de 
Girardin's  Clcopatre.  The  delineation  of  the  heroine's  char- 
acter is  neither  strong  nor  spirited.  The  choice  of  a  theme 
that  had  been  already  chosen  by  the  great  master,  continually 
recalls  the  vivid  coloring,  the  fiery  force,  the  bold  vigor,  the 
numerous  flashes  of  nature  contained  in  the  astonishing  mas- 
ter-piece of  that  gigantic  intellect,  and  makes  the  poor  imita- 
tion, by  comparison,  more  dwarfish  still. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  appeared  in  "  Cleopatre"  on  the  first 
night  of  her  rentree.     Very  unsuited  to  her  stately,  dignified. 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  171 

imperious  attitude,  so  Greek,  so  antique  in  its  severity  of  out- 
line, was  the  character  of  the  soft,  hmguishing  Egyptian,  all 
love,  all  voluptuous  impatience,  doubting  in  her  anxiety,  her 
fretful  jealousy,  even  the  power  of  her  charms.  This  lan- 
guishing child  of  the  East  could  find  no  fit  representation  in 
Mademoiselle  Kachel.  When  the  curtain  rose  at  the  second 
act  on  the  Queen  of  Egypt,  who  had  dressed  her  part  superb- 
ly, the  sight  was  very  grand,  and  proved  the  taste  and  care 
with  which  the  tableau  had  been  got  up.  The  costume  of 
Rachel  was  gorgeous  in  the  extreme,  and  nothing  was  over- 
done. Amid  this  profusion  of  gold-embroidered  tissues,  brace- 
lets, necklaces,  ear-drops,  stomachers,  this  dazzling  mass  of 
diamonds,  rubies,  emeralds,  and  pearls,  the  spectators'  atten- 
tion was  fixed  on  the  unsurpassed  elegance,  the  sculptural 
dignity  of  her  attitudes.  Reclining  on  this  couch  of  Tyrian 
purple,  she  listens  with  divided  attention,  for  her  thoughts  are 
o^  Anthony,  to  the  precepts  the  high-priest  reads  from  the  un- 
rolled papyrus. 

In  December  Mademoiselle  Rachel  absented  herself,  on  ac- 
count, she  alleged,  of  illness,  and  "  Cleopatre"  was  stopped 
after  it  had  been  acted  but  eight  nights.  It  was  bringing  in 
about  4000  francs  each  night.  This  absence  from  the  stage 
lasted  three  months. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

1848. 


Mademoiselle  Rachel  and  Mademoiselle  Georges. — "Cleopatre  and 
Rodogune." — Influence  of  Revolutions  on  Actors.— Talma  and  Lais. 
— Influence  of  the  Revolution  of  1848  on  Dramatic  Literature  and 
Theatricals. — Old  Things  new  Named. — M.  de  Lamartine's  rejection 
of  the  Red  Flag. — Suggestions  of  a  Workman  on  Theatricals. — Be- 
ranger  on  the  Revolution. — A  Political  Tragedienne. — "La  Marseil- 
laise."— Le  Peiqde  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  1844  and  in  1848. 

This  yeai',  so  eventful  for  France,  was,  for  Mademoiselle 
Rachel,  the  closing  one  of  that  period  of  toil  and  struggle 
through  which  every  great  artist  must  pass  to  approve  the 
talent  that  none  may  dare  contest — to  conquer  the  position 


172  MEMOIRS   OF   RAcma,. 

that  none  may  venture  to  dispute.  It  was  during  this  year, 
too,  that  she  committed  one  of  the  greatest  mistakes  in  her 
life.  Not  content  with  the  high  honors  she  had  earned,  with 
the  admiration  of  the  refined,  of  the  educated,  she  endeavored 
to  win  popularity  among  a  class  whose  approbation  true  genius 
never  courts.  To  obtain  the  short-lived  fame  that  rests  on 
the  ever-changing  decisions  of  a  mob,  she  turned  her  back  on 
those  who  had  supported  her  throughout  her  career:  she  abjured 
all  gratitude,  she  threw  her  laurels  at  the  feet  of  the  populace, 
she  ministered  to  the  angry  passions  of  a  crowd — she  chanted, 
to  use  the  expression  of  her  admirers,  the  "Marseillaise." 

Illness,  reported  to  be  very  serious,  had  been  alleged  by 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  as  a  reason  for  not  playing  during  the 
first  month  of  this  year.  To  give  new  interest  to  her  reap- 
pearance, which  was  announced  to  take  place  on  Friday,  Feb- 
ruary 25,  in  the  "Cle'opatre"  of  Madame  de  Girardin,  a  ru- 
mor was  circulated  which,  had  it  been  confirmed  by  the  event, 
would  have  done  infinite  honor  to  her  heart.  It  was  said  that, 
to  beguile  the  tedium  of  a  long  convalescence,  she  had  studied 
the  part  oi  Rodogune,m  Corneille's  tragedy  of  that  name,  and 
that  her  first  visit  on  her  recovery  had  been  to  Mademoiselle 
Georges.  "  I  am  come,  my  dear  sister,"  said  the  younger  to 
the  elder  star,  "  to  say  I  have  learned  Rodogune  for  your  sake, 
and  will  play  it,  if  you  will,  to  your  Clcopdtre ;  I  am  fully 
convinced  we  shall  be  successful." 

These  were  noble  words;  this  was  indeed  rendering  unto 
Csesar  that  which  was  Caesar's.  The  circumstances  of  Made- 
moiselle Georges  were  such  at  that  time  that  could  she,  by 
her  reappearance  in  a  character  deemed  one  of  her  best,  and 
with  the  attraction  of  the  present  favorite  of  the  public,  have 
brought  full  houses  for  a  few  evenings,  the  result  would  have 
been  the  addition  of  much  comfort  to  her  declining  years.  But 
the  kind  offer,  if  ever  made,  was,  like  many  others  of  the  emi- 
nent tragedienne's,  followed  by  no  performance.  Indeed,  the 
poor  grace  with  which,  in  the  following  year,  she  responded 
to  a  call  on  her  services  made  by  Mademoiselle  Georges, 
scarcely  corrojjorates  the  report  of  the  gratuitous  offer  of  this. 

On  the  13th  of  March  Mademoiselle  Rachel  made  her  ren- 
tree  in  Camille  of  "  Les  Horaces."     The  tragedies  of  Corneille, 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  173 

full  of  patriotic  sentiments,  of  noble  deeds,  are  peculiarly  suit- 
ed to  periods  of  popular  commotions.  The  spectators  seek  on 
the  stage  the  representation  of  the  feelings  by  which  they  are 
themselves  actuated,  and  the  actors,  entering  into  the  spirit  of 
the  reality,  communicate  its  life  to  the  fiction  in  which  they 
act.  During  the  first  Revolution,  Talma,  carried  away  by  the 
torrent,  shared  its  errors  and  its  enthusiasm.  He  not  only 
flattered  the  public  taste  by  the  tragedies  of  "  Charles  IX." 
and  the  "Death  of  Caesar,"  but  he  also  carried  his  republican 
manifestations  into  private  life ;  he  and  his  friend  David,  the 
celebrated  painter,  used  to  walk  in  the  galleries  of  the  Palais 
Royal  in  the  dress  of  Roman  consuls  ! 

As  some  excuse  for  the  eccentricities  of  genius,  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  in  France,  and  more  especially  in  Paris, 
the  stage  is  so  closely  identified  with  the  habits,  manners,  and 
customs  of  ordinary  life,  so  interested  in  the  variations  of  pub- 
lic opinion  and  in  the  great  national  events,  that  it  is  very 
difficult  for  the  actors  to  forbear  giving  way  to  the  impres- 
sions of  the  moment  amid  revolutionary  tumults. 

At  certain  epochs  it  is  in  the  allusions  the  plays  of  the  clas- 
sic repertoire  offer  that  public  feeling  seeks  a  vent.  At  others 
— and  then  the  government  itself  is  the  accomplice  of  the  au- 
dience— the  popular  opinions,  the  patriotism  of  the  day,  are 
expressed  in  plays  written  to  suit  the  circumstances  and  cal- 
culated to  excite  a  paroxysm  of  zeal. 

In  such  cases  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  sort  of  electric 
cuiTcnt  that  is  then  established  between  the  stage  and  the 
public  should  reach  from  the  latter  to  the  former,  and  that  the 
actors  should  in  their  turn  feel  in  earnest  the  passions  of  which 
they  are  the  interpreters,  and  which  they  are  not  only  to  ex- 
press, but  also  to  excite  in  their  hearers. 

Nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  every  thing  violent,  sudden, 
out  of  the  common  line,  is  likely  to  seduce  the  imagination 
of  artists.  The  themes  they  are  most  conversant  with  on 
the  boards  are  events  that  overthrow  empires  and  raise  new 
thrones  on  the  ruins  of  the  old.  Hence  it  is  natural  that 
those  who  spend  tlie  better  part  of  their  lives  in  this  tragical 
atmosphere,  whose  minds  are  constantly  dwelling  on  the  vi- 
cissitudes of  fortune,  should  readily  fall  into  the  wake  of  a 


174  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

real  revolution,  and  become  its  interpreters,  its  oi'gans,  more 
especially  when  they  are  certain  thereby  of"  increasing  two- 
fold the  applause  attributed  to  their  talent. 

This  is  the  only  explanation  that  can  be  found  for  the 
absurd  masquerade  of  Talma,  for  the  illuminism  of  Lais,  the 
famous  singer,  whose  exquisitely  sweet  and  melodious  voice, 
uttering  the  ferociously  energetic  stanzas  of  the  "Marseil- 
laise" on  the  boards  of  the  Grand  Opera,  caused  all  the  au- 
dience to  fall  on  their  knees. 

The  aberrations  of  these  men  had,  however,  a  noble  source ; 
the  foot  of  the  invader  was  on  the  soil  of  France,  and  the 
indignant  land  was  heaving  as  in  the  throes  of  an  earthquake. 
Every  heart  was  inspired,  every  arm  was  nerved,  every  brain 
was  fevered  by  the  magic  words  gloria  and  patrie.  No  such 
incentives  existed  in  1848  ;  and  when  Eachel,  whose  waking 
hours  were  haunted  and  whose  sleep  was  troubled  by  the 
wish  to  imitate  the  follies  of  her  illustrious  predecessors,  at- 
tempted to  do  likewise,  she  had  the  misfortune  to  excite  hates 
that  had  no  object,  to  call  down  vengeance  where  there  was 
no  motive,  and  to  insult  foes  that  were  absent  or  no  longer  in 
existence.  Talma  and  Lais  had  before  them  a  foreign  in- 
vasion ;  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  in  the  presence  of  the  most 
absurd  and  disorganizing  saturnalia  that  ever  found  a  place 
in  the  history  of  nations. 

To  understand  the  state  of  things  with  regard  to  theatricals 
at  that  time,  some  explanation  of  the  influence  the  Revolution 
had  on  them  is  necessary. 

In  France,  the  people — that  people  that  may  with  truth 
be  proclaimed  one  of  the  happiest  and  one  of  the  most  mildly 
governed  on  the  face  of  the  globe — imagine,  at  every  revolu- 
tion, that  they  have  at  last  thrown  off  the  yoke  of  the  most 
frightful  despotism,  that  they  are  entering  on  a  new  era  of 
happiness  and  of  liberty ;  the  past  was  the  age  of  iron,  the 
future  is  to  be  the  age  of  gold.  The  amount  of  insane  hopes, 
wild  delusions  then  entertained  is  beyond  conception.  Every 
thing  in  the  fallen  regime  was  wrong,  every  thing  in  the  new 
will  bo  perfect.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  change  the 
name  of  the  things ;  old  ones  are  thus  supposed  to  be  regen- 
erated,- to  have  changed  their  nature ;  the  Monarchy  becomes 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL,  175 

a  Republic,  the  Gendarmerie  is  metamorphosed  into  the  Garde 
Urbaine  or  Municipale,  the  Sergeant  de  Ville  is  a  Gardien  de 
Paris.  Uniforms  are  turned  right  side  out,  and  a  vast  num- 
ber of  functionaries  arc  dismissed.  When  all  these  wonderful 
improvements  and  reforms  have  been  effected,  the  groundwork 
remains  unchanged,  and,  if  examined,  will  be  found  immov- 
able. After  the  lapse  of  a  few  months,  during  which  a  great 
deal  of  zeal  has  been  displayed,  and  no  little  confusion,  cost, 
and  trouble  have  been  occasioned,  all  things  fall  back  into  the 
old  routine,  into  the  gentle,  calm  repose  of  the  past. 

The  saturnalia  of  1848,  for  that  popular  tumult  can  not 
be  called  a  revolution,  were,  more  especially  than  any  other 
epoch,  characterized  by  chimerical  expectations  and  extrava- 
gant visions.  Every  institution  constituting  a  portion  of  the 
basis  of  society  was  the  subject  of  discussion  and  animadver- 
sion, and  more  or  less  shaken  to  its  very  fovmdations.  "  The 
possession  of  property  is  tlieft^''  "the  right  to  Zoior,"  communism, 
socialism,  workmen's  association,  en  commandite,  emancipation 
of  women,  and  many,  many  other  similar  follies,  will  witness 
to  posterity  the  insanity,  the  deliiium  of  that  strange  epoch. 

The  stage,  that  important  eh  ment  in  the  life  of  the  Pa- 
risians, could  not  escape  in  the  general  catastrophe.  The  ef- 
fusions in  which  the  partisans  of  the  Revolution  threw  out 
their  views  of  reform  as  applicable  to  theatricals  are  curious 
even  at  this  short  distance  of  time. 

The  Revolution  broke  out,  conquered,  and  triumphed  dur- 
ing the  24th,  25th,  2Gth,  and  27th  days  of  Februaiy.  No 
later  than  the  28th  the  government  that  revolution  had  es- 
tablished gave  its  attention  to  the  theatres  of  the  capital — 
it  changed  their  names.  The  fact  is  alluded  to  in  the  follow- 
ing glowing  terms,  in  a  theatrical  bulletin  of  the  day,  by  one 
of  the  warmest  adherents  of  the  party  in  power : 

"The  revolutionary  and  patriotic  enthusiasm  is  taking  pos- 
session of  all  hearts.  The  theatres,  reopened  this  evening, 
are  crowded.  Every  where  the  notes  of  the  '  Marseillaise,' 
and  those  of  the  energetic  hymn  of  our  new  revolution, '  Mou- 
rir  pour  la  patrie,'  rejoice  our  ears. 

"  The  Theatre  Frantjais  from  this  day  takes  the  name  of 
'Theatre  de  la  Republique.'     The  Opera  is  now  the  'Theatre 


176  MEMOIRS    OP    RACHEL. 

de  la  Nation'.  *******  Patriotic  plays  are 
every  where  rehearsing".  ' 

This  was  the  state  of  things  on  the  day  following  that  on 
which  M.  de  Lamartine,  importuned  by  the  people  at  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  to  declare  the  red  flag  the  national  flag,  made 
the  noble  reply  that  history  will  record  as  some  extenuation 
of  his  political  errors : 

"  Citizens,  for  my  part,  never  will  I  adopt  the  red  flag ;  and 
I  will  tell  you,  in  a  few  words,  why  I  will  oppose  it  with  all 
the  strength  of  my  patriotism. 

"  The  reason  is,  citizens,  that  the  tri-colored  flag  has  gone 
round  the  world  with  our  liberty  and  our  glory,  and  the  red 
flag  has  only  gone  round  the  Champs  de  Mars,  dragged  through 
floods  of  the  people's  blood." 

Here  we  have  the  extremes  meeting — the  arbiters  of  the 
destinies  of  France  were  not  so  preoccupied  with  the  perils  of 
the  state  but  what  they  could  attend  to  the  most  petty  details 
of  the  administration.  The  theatrical  bulletin  of  the  paper 
already  quoted  had  the  following  : 

"  All  the  theatres  are  reopened.  Our  reporter  visited  them 
all  in  succession  yesterday.  The  boxes  were  all  em'pty,  but  all 
the  other  seats  were  filled.  The  '  Mai*seillaise'  was  sung  every 
where." 

Notwithstanding  these  tokens  of  the  apparent  general  satis- 
faction, the  very  next  day  (March  1st)  "A  Workman"  thus 
emitted  Im  views  on  the  new  organization  to  be  given  to  the 
theatres : 

"The  ci-devant  royal  theatres  are,  on  account  of  the  high 
prices  of  admission,  quite  closed  to  the  people.  This  state  of 
things  must  not  be  allowed  to  continue.  These  theatres,  being 
supported  by  an  enormous  subsidy,  should,  on  the  contrary, 
be  the  most  accessible  to  the  people.  These  theatres  are  pos- 
itively inaccessible  to  the  people.  Why  should  they  be  de- 
prived of  the  pleasure  a  fine  performance  affords  ?  The  people 
are  not  exacting ;  let  them  be  allowed  seats  that  can  be  ob- 
tained without  lessening  their  small  savings.  Give  to  the 
people  all  the  enjoyments  of  the  more  favored  by  fortune." 

Criticism  in  black  coats  united  with  criticism  in  blouses; 
one  of  its  organs  spoke  as  follows : 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  177 

"  The  politic.ll  events  that  have  lately  taken  place  have  nat- 
urally had  an  effect  on  the  Theatre  Fran(,ais,  always  so  ready 
for  revolutions.  It  has  thought,  with  good  reason,  that  the 
republican  government  could  not  oppose  its  constituting  itself 
into  a  republic.  The  commissary  of  the  royal  government 
was  expelled  like  a  Tarquin,  and  Citizen  Lockroy  was  pro- 
claimed .dictator  of  the  republic  of  letters  in  the  Theatre  de  la 
Kepublique.  The  Theatre  Fran(;ais  has  a  great  and  noble 
mission  to  fulfill.  It  must  rise  to  the  height  of  the  present 
situation.  It  is  no  longer  to  offer  vain  and  frivolous  amuse- 
ments to  a  nation  that  requires  to  hear,  on  a  free  stage,  noble 
and  elevated  language.  This  was  the  aim  of  those  generous 
citizens  who,  less  fortunate  than  we  shall  be,  endeavored  to 
establish  the  first  French  republic  on  the  basis  of  Order  and 
Liberty.  From  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  Payen,  appealing  to 
authors,  enthusiastically  exclaims,  '  Ye  who  love  arts,  who  in 
the  retirement  of  your  closets  meditate  on  what  may  be  useful 
to  mankind,  ye  patriotic  writers,  develop  your  plans,  weigh 
with  us  the  power  of  theatricals.  The  question  is.  How  to 
combine  their  social  influence  with  the  principles  of  govern- 
ment? A  public  school  must  be  instituted  where  taste  and 
virtue  shall  be  alike  respected.  The  committee  shall  be  bound 
to  inquire  of  genius,  to  draw  out  talent,  to  gather  the  fruits 
of  their  vigils,  to  point  out  to  their  labors  the  patriotic  aim 
they  are  to  attain.  The  committee  Avill  be  accountable  to 
letters,  to  the  nation,  to  themselves,  for  the  poet  whose  lyre 
they  neglect,  for  the  historian  to  whom  they  furnish  no  tablet, 
for  the  genius  whose  flight  has  not  been  encouraged  and  di- 
rected.' " 

After  this  quotation  from  Payen  the  feuilletonist  continues: 
"  We  repeat  it,  it  is  to  preserve  the  magnificent  language  of 
the  masters,  both  ancient  and  modern,  of  our  stage,  to  elevate 
thought,  to  teach  the  Leart  by  means  of  sublime  tableaux,  to 
perfect  art  in  every  way,  that  the  efforts  of  the  stage  in  the 
new  republic  should  be  directed.  In  lieu  of  weak  and  tame 
literary  and  satirical  sketches,  we  need  vigorous  and  energetic 
sentiments ;  every  thing  that  enlarges  the  soul,  every  thing 
that  tends  to  inspire  enthusiasm  for  that  which  is  beautiful 
and  good." 

H2 


178  MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL. 

Such  was  the  language  of  the  two  epochs  at  an  interval  of 
half  a  century ;  such  are  the  ever-disappointed  aspirations,  the 
ever-vanishing  illusions  of  all  revolutions.  The  result  of 
Payen's  exhortations  in  1792  are  well  known — extravagant 
tragedies  aiid  monstrous  dramas. 

We  will  now  examine  how  far  and  how  worthily  dramatic 
literature  answered  the  appeal  of  1848. 

The  playbills  had,  during  twenty-three  days  of  the  month 
of  February,  been  filled  with  the  announcement  of  an  insig- 
nificant comedy  of  jM.  Scribe's,  called  "  Le  Puff." 

The  day  after  this  regenerating  revolution,  this  same  "Puff" 
and  "  Le  Chateau  de  Cartes"  are  again  on  the  playbills.  A 
little  later  the  literature  of  the  new  era  makes  its  appearance, 
and  we  have  "  Le  Dernier  des  Kermor,"  certainly  one  of  the 
last  pieces  that  ought  to  have  been  performed  under  any  re- 
gime whatsoever.  Next  in  order  came  "Le  Eoi  Attend!"  an 
interlude  so  void  of  meaning  and  of  talent  that  we  can  not 
but  be  surprised  it  was  ever  permitted  to  see  the  light.  It 
was  plain  that  such  productions  would  not  fulfill  the  flowery 
programme  that  had  offered  to  "elevate  thought,  to  move  the 
heart  by  sublime  tableaux."  It  was  found  necessary  to  have 
recourse  again  to  old  Corneille,  and  Mademoiselle  Eachel 
came  out  in  "Les  Horaces."  She  acted  Camille  with  an 
energj-,  a  passion  such  as  perhaps  she  had  never  before  dis- 
played. 

It  would  have  been  well  had  she  contented  herself -oath  re- 
peating the  noble  Alexandrines  of  the  great  poet;  no  one 
thought  of  requiring  more  of  her.  But  she  too  had  been 
bitten  by  the  revolutionary  demon.  The  first  occasion  on 
which  she  exhibited  symptoms  of  the  disease  we  relate  on  the 
authority  of  a  rather  indiscreet  modern  muse,  who  gives  it  in 
a  volume  she  has  recently  published,  containing  forty-five  let- 
ters addressed  to  her  by  an  immortal  bard.  We  can  well 
imagine  that  such  a  correspondence  is  one  to  be  proud  of,  yet 
more  delicacy  and  good  taste  would  have  advised  less  haste, 
and  censured  the  bringing  it  before  the  jjublic  almost  simul- 
taneously with  the  invitations  to  the  funeral  of  the  illustrious 
writer. 

At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  of  the  24th  of  Feburary 


MEMOIKS    OK    RACHEL.  170 

Mademoiselle  Racliol  resided  near  the  Porte  Maillot.  To 
enter  Paris,  she  was  obliged  to  make  her  way  through  armed 
groups,  who  endeavored  to  keep  their  zeal  at  boiling  pitch  by 
singing  the  epidemical  "  Marseillaise."  The  contagion  com- 
municated itself  to  Mademoiselle  Kachel,  who  was  going  into 
Paris  with  Mademoiselle  Louise  Collet.  She  commenced 
singing  in  the  carriage,  giving  the  hymn  wdth  the  same  in- 
tonation with  which  she  afterward  brought  it  out  on  the 
stage.  "  One  felt  in  the  air,"  said  Mademoiselle  Louise  Col- 
let, when  she  related  the  incident  to  Bcranger,  "  like  a  mighty 
breath  of  hope  that  bore  along  with  it  all  youthful  hearts." 

"I  greatly  fear,"  replied  Bcranger,  who  was  no  longer 
young,  and  who  had  as  much  good  sense  as  genius,  "  I  great- 
ly fear  we  have  been  made  to  tumble  down  the  stairs  we 
should  have  walked  down." 

Notwithstanding  the  threatening  aspect  of  the  horizon,  the 
rentrce  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  not  without  eclat;  she  had 
learned  a  new  role,  and  made  her  debut  as  a  political  trage- 
dienne. Having  laid  aside  the  peplum  of  Camille,  she  appeared 
between  the  acts  attired  in  a  long  and  very  full  white  muslin 
dress.  She  wore  no  ornament  in  her  dark  hair  ;  in  her  right 
hand  she  held  the  tri-colored  flag.  Never  had  her  features, 
well  suited  and  accustomed  as  they  Avere  to  a  tragic  look, 
worn  so  terrible  an  expression  as  they  did  at  that  moment. 
As  she  came  on  toward  the  foot-lights  with  a  slow,  majestic 
tread,  an  undefined  sensation  of  fear  thrilled  the  audience, 
even  before  she  had  uttered  a  word.  The  countenance  was 
of  a  livid  hue  ;  the  eyebrows,  swerving  from  their  finely-drawn 
lines,  wreathed  like  small  serpents  over  the  dark  eye,  glowing 
in  its  blood-red  orbit  with  a  strange,  wild  fire,  telling  a  bitter 
tale  of  past  wrong  and  of  present  revolt,  of  long-cherished,  un- 
quenchable hatred,  of  fierce,  pitiless  revenge ;  the  lips  were 
pregnant  with  unuttered  maledictions ;  the  nostrils,  passion- 
ately dilated,  seemed,  like  those  of  the  war-horse,  to  scent 
from  afar  the  carnage  of  the  battle-field.  The  whole  figure, 
in  its  terrific  grace,  its  sinister  beauty,  was  a  magnificent  rep- 
resentation of  the  implacable  Nemesis  of  antiquity,  and  struck 
every  heart  with  terror  and  admiration. 

Eaising  her  arm  with  a  motion  which,  throwing  back  the 


180  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

wide  sleeve,  left  it  bare  to  the  shoulder,  she  commenced  the 

liymn 

"Aliens  enfants  de  la  patrie." 

She  did  not  sing,  she  did  not  declaim,  she  uttered  it  somewhat 
after  the  fashion  of  the  ancient  melopoeia,  something  between 
a  chant  and  a  recitation,  to  which  her  tones,  at  times  sharp 
and  harsh,  at  others  hard  and  metallic,  and  then  again  deep 
and  cavernous,  like  distant  thunder,  gave  extraordinary  eiFect. 
Her  attitudes,  her  gestures,  the  motions  of  her  head,  all  ex- 
pressed admirably  the  sense  of  each  stanza.  The  brow,  at 
one  moment  bowed  with  shame  and  grief  at  the  recollection 
of  the  woes  and  miseries  she  spoke,  at  another  proudly  raised 
as  though  it  had  just  thrown  off  the  yoke  of  the  oppressor,  the 
foot  spurning  the  enslaved  earth,  the  nerves  quivering  beneath 
the  intensity  of  fixed  resolution,  all  betrayed  a  deadly  thirst 
for  vengeance.  As  n.  finale  to  this  splendid  piece  of  mummery, 
the  inimitable  artist,  apparently  overcome  by  her  patriotic 
feelings,  sank  on  her  knees,  clasping  to  her  heart  the  banner, 
the  folds  of  which  fell  around  her  statuesque  figure  in  the  most 
picturesque  manner ;  then  rising  abruptly,  she  waved  the  flag 
with  the  cry  of  "  Aux  armes,  citoyens !  &c.,"  to  which  the 
spectators,  nearly  crazed  with  excitement,  responded  with  the 
most  prolonged  and  deafening  applause. 

■  A  feuilletonist  remarked  very  justly  that  the  gratis  audience 
Avith  which  the  provisional  government  had  filled  the  house 
preferred  one  stanza  of  Eouget  de  L'Isle  to  all  Corneille  and 
Eacine,  with  M.  Ponsard  thrown  in  as  a  makeweight. 

This  heartfelt,  improinptu  enthusiasm  was  as  carefully  studied 
and  rehearsed  as  any  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  other  charac- 
ters. A  poetess  of  no  little  celebrity,  who  had  the  curiosity 
to  go  and  see  the  tragedienne  behind  the  scenes,  found  her 
standing,  banner  in  hand,  awaiting  the  signal  to  go  on  the 
stage.  Madame  Waldor  described  her  as  looking  coldly  ex- 
cited. The  words  express  exactly  the  preparatory  ivorking  up 
she  W£\s  going  through. 

As  far  as  regarded  taere  art — the  art  of  the  statuary — the 
porformance  was  perfection  ;  in  a  moral  sense,  nothing  could 
be  in  worse  taste  than  this  appeal  to  the  angry  passions  of  an 
ignorant  and  excitable  multitude.     It  was  not  Mademoiselle 


5IEM0IRS    OF    RACHEL.  181 

Eachel's  fault  if  her  public  was  less  ferocious  than  that  of 
1792.  She  did  her  part  toward  rousing  it.  But,  whatever 
their  errors,  the  revolutionists  of  1848,  notwithstanding  silly 
as  well  as  criminal  incitations,  were  guiltless  of  shedding  one 
drop  of  blood. 

How  the  most  magnificent  productions  of  the  human  mind 
may  be  perverted  to  idle  uses,  defiled  and  dcgi-aded  by  being 
brought  forward  out  of  place  and  out  of  season,  has  been  re- 
peatedly proved  by  the  senseless  manner  in  which  that  grand 
hymn,  the  "  Marseillaise,"  has  been  prostituted  and  made  the 
herald  of  mirrder,  arson,  and  pillage,  the  purveyor  of  the 
headsman,  the  incentive  to  every  crime  the  mind  of  man  can 
conceive,  the  arm  of  man  can  perpetrate.  It  is  ditficult  to 
understand  by  what  connection  of  ideas  people  are  induced  to 
bellow  forth  a  frantic  call  for  the  "Marseillaise"  in  a  place 
of  public  amusement.  Those  who  were  assembled  in  the 
house  when  this  sad  farce  was  acted  had  met  after  the  day's 
toil  of  mind  or  body  to  rest  from  the  cares  of  life  for  a  few 
hours ;  they  sought  calm  and  repose  ;  evil  thoughts  slumbei'- 
ed,  and  the  noble  lessons  of  magnanimity,  honor,  and  valor  of 
a  Corneille  could  not  fail  to  awaken  corresponding  feelings  in 
the  hearers.  '  "What  urgent  motive  could  tempt  any  reasoning 
creature  to  interrupt  those  quiet  rational  pleasures,  to  evoke 
reminiscences  of  bloody  scaffolds  and  exterminating  civil  wars  ? 
This  fatal  poem  recalled,  it  is  true,  some  of  the  victories  of 
France,  but  it  had  been  also  the  de  profundis  of  thousands  of 
the  noblest  and  wisest  of  her  children. 

Jules  Janin,  who  had  the  good  sense  and  the  courage  to 
raise  his  voice  against  this  unhallowed  scene,  wrote  an  elo- 
quent article  on  its  mischievous  tendencies.  "What,  indeed, 
has  the  dread  cry  of  '  To  arms !'  to  do  with  peaceable  citizens  t 
Where  was  the  danger  ?  AYhat  frontier  was  attacked  ?  What 
enemy  was  to  be  expelled  ?  Whose  impure  blood  was  to  be 
shed  ?  Wherefore  this  sudden  cry  of  mad  dog  ?  Alas  !  the 
idiots  whose  breath  raises  this  devastating  storm,  who  howl 
forth  this  war-cry  of  Cain,  have  not  the  slightest  idea  of  its 
import.  They  know  not  that  they  VNneld  at  random  a  double- 
bladed  weapon — one  steel,  the  salutary  instrument  that  cures 
an  evil,  the  other  the  poisoned  tool  that  creates  a  worse  one. 


182  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

Not  for  these  poor  fools  and  dupes,  or  for  the  monsters  who 
degraded  it  to  their  own  purposes,  was  this  funaticizing  hymn 
written ;  not  for  these,  but  for  men  who  sang  it  bare-headed, 
with  faith-inspired  voices,  on  theu'  march  to  their  threatened 
frontiers.  Certes,  the  thing  was  worth  some  reflection,  seeing 
that  it  had  overturned  altars,  overthrown  dynasties,  depopu- 
lated whole  provinces.  Serious  men,  whose  hearts  retain 
some  fear  of  God,  some  love  for  humanity,  will  meditate  long 
before  they  shout  this  exterminating  cry  ;  and,  above  all,  they 
will  choose  some  more  fitting  place  for  its  anathematizing 
burden  than  the  temple  of  pleasure.  They  will  remember 
that  to  this  very  tune,  valiant  men,  helpless  mothers  and 
daughters,  innocent  babes,  were  marched  to  the  guillotine, 
butchered  like  sheep  in  the  shambles,  huri'ied  into  eternity  by 
fire,  water,  and  the  sword.  Among  that  very  audience  that 
gazed  admiringly  on  her  who  gave  such  life  to  its  spirit  of  dis- 
cord, few  reflected  that  almost  every  family  there  had  had  one 
or  more  of  its  members  offered  up  as  a  victim  to  satiate  the 
sanguinaiy  feelings  its  revolutionary  chorus  awakened. 

"  All  hail,  all  homage,  all  respect,  all  love  to  the  '  Marseil- 
laise' marching  to  the  battle-field,  shoeless,  ill  clothed,  ill  fed, 
ill  armed,  unpaid,  leveling  the  snow-clad  Alps,  treading  deeper 
into  earth  the  dust  of  the  Ccesars,  crossing  the  astonished  and 
conquered  Ehine,  and  winning  ^e  well-contested  fields  of 
Austerlitz  and  Marengo ! 

"But  to  the  'Marseillaise'  of  the  club,  the  pot-house,  the 
carre/ours,  and  the  barricades :  to  the  '  Marseillaise'  that  in- 
stigates the  midnight  assassin  and  the  cowardly  worker  of  in- 
fernal machines ;  to  the  '  Marseillaise'  of  the  revolutionary  tri- 
bunal, that  drags  to  the  guillotine,  that  lays  waste  vast  dis- 
tricts, that  depopulates  towns  whose  walls  crumble  at  its 
sounds  as  at  that  of  the  trumpet  of  the  destroying  angel,  to 
this  hell-born  beldame,  the  anathema  of  nations  !  Let  us  hope 
her  notes  may  be  effaced  from  the  memory  of  men,  and  espe- 
cially of  Frenchmen." 

That  these  considerations  should  have  had  any  weight  on 
the  cosmopolitan  Jewess,  whose  country  was  that  which  paid 
her  best,  whose  feelings  of  humanity  or  of  gratitude  weighed 
as  naught  against  the  all-sovereign  shekel,  was  not  to  be  ex- 


MEMOIRS    OF    UACHEL.  183 

pected.  And  yet  it  is  probable  that  she  erred  from  ignorance. 
Accustomed  to  make  every  thing  subservient  to  the  love  of 
money,  she  did  not  pause  to  think  wliat  evils  might  arise  from 
the  means  she  used.  She  forgot,  perhaps,  that  she  was  rais- 
ing this  flag  against  her  best  friends.  She  foi-got,  too,  that 
the  time  was  not  far  gone  by  when  Jules  Janin  recalled  her 
to  a  sense  of  the  respect  due  to  that  very  "  people"  she  was 
cringing  to  so  obsequiously,  and  advised  her,  when  in  the  part 
o^ Berenice  she  spoke  of  the  "people,"  especially  as  the  words 
were  there  meant  to  designate  the  Roman  nation,  not  to  utter 
them  with  the  scorn  and  contempt  she  did. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

1848. 


Decree  of  the  Citizen  Minister  Lcdru  11011111. — "  Lucrfece." — Nemesis 
wearing  the  Insignia  of  a  C'ommissaire  de  Police. — Grand  National 
Performance. — The  Blouse  triumphant.-- "Les  Horaces." — "Le 
Malade  Imaginaire." — "La  Marseillaise."— Bonqnet  Monstre. — A 
Sovereign  more  dcsjiotic  than  the  last. — Second  Grand  National  Per- 
formance.— Honorable  Testimonial  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel.— En- 
thusiasm at  a  low  Ebb. — Grand  Fetes  and  no  Bread.— Theatricals 
under  Louis  Philippe  and  under  the  Provisional  Government. — 
Death  of  Vemet. — Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  two  Characters  of  the 
same  Play.  • 

In  the  mean  while,  the  claim  put  forth  by  "  A  Workman" 
for  a  few  cheap  seats  for  the  people  in  the  ci-devant  royal  the- 
atres had  set  the  wits  of  Citoyen  Ledru  RoUin  to  work,  and 
the  result  was  the  following  decree  published  by  that  too  fa- 
mous minister : 

"The  Minister  op  the  Interior. — Inasmuch  as  the  state 
is  bound  to  furnish  such  labor  to  the  people  as  shall  enable 
them  to  earn  a  living,  it  is  also  bound  to  encourage  all  efforts 
tending  to  make  them  participators  of  the  moral  enjoyments 
that  elevate  the  soul.  Inasmuch  as  the  performance  of  the 
master-pieces  of  the  French  stage  can  not  but  develop  worthy 
and  noble  feelings,  on  the  offer  made  by  Citizen  Lockroy, 
commissary  of  the  government  at  the  Theatre  de  la  Repub- 
lique,  on  the  report  of  the  Diiector  of  tlie  Fine  Arts, 


184  imemoirs  of  rachel. 

Decrees  : 

"  The  commissary  of  the  government  at  the  Theatre  de  la 
Republique  is  authorized  to  give  national  performances  at  short 
intervals. 

"  Said  performances  to  consist  of  works  of  the  best  French 
dramatic  authors,  acted  by  the  elite  of  the  actors  of  that  thea- 
tre.    Between  the  acts  national  airs  will  be  played. 

"  All  the  seats  in  the  house  will  be  numbered,  and  each  seat 
have  a  corresponding  ticket. 

"  Said  tickets  will  be  distributed  to  the  twelve  municipali- 
ties of  Paris,  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  to  the  Prefecture  of 
Police,  and  thence  to  the  clubs,  schools,  factories,  aud  poorer 
citizens,  who  will  obtain  them  by  drawing  for  them. 

"  Signed,  Ledku  Eollest. 

"Paris,  March  24,  1848." 

Pride,  the  sin  of  the  fallen  ange.l,  betrays  itself,  strange  to 
say,  more  openly  in  France  during  periods  of  revolution  than 
at  any  other  time.  Each  profession,  each  trade,  each  calling, 
believes  itself  specially  appointed  to  take  an  active  part,  and 
is  convinced  of  its  superior  importance  in  the  guidance  of  the 
destinies  of  the  nation. 

"  Our  mission  is  taking  a  wider  range,"  exclaimed  M.  Hip- 
polyte  Lucas,  the  critic  of  "  La  Siecle ;"  "  it  rises  to  the  height 
of  a  public  function.  Henceforward  there  will  weigh  upon 
us  a  responsibility  to  be  exercised,  not,  as  that  of  the  censor- 
ship, in  secret,  but  in  public,  before  the  eyes  of  alT.  Criticism 
has  become  a  witty  and  skeptical  amusement.  For  this  it  can 
not  be  blamed,  all  its  efforts  to  be  aught  else  having  proved 
useless.  The  moment  has  arrived  when  every  thing  defective 
in  the  organization  and  tendency  of  the  stage  must  be  attacked 
without  mercy.  We  shall  not  be  found  wanting  in  this  hon- 
oi'able  duty.  We  shall  not  devote  ourselves  merely  to  the 
preservation  of  the  sacred  rules  of  language  and  of  taste  ;  we 
ai"e  also  bound  to  hasten  eveiy  possible  reform  on  which  de- 
pends the  future  of  literatui'e  and  public  education  through 
the  teachings  of  the  drama." 

It  was  rather  strange  that  this  sapient  critic  had  not  thought 
of  putting  all  these  excellent  theories  in  practice  under  a  gov- 


MEMOIRS   OF   nACHEL.  185 

ernment  that  had,  perhaps  too  imprudently,  left  to  the  press 
the  most  unbounded  liberty.  It  would  seem  that  a  revolution 
was  necessary  to  make  him  understand  his  mission. 

This  was  the  second  time  that  dramatic  literature  had  been 
put  to  a  revolutionary  test.  Criticism  and  the  drama  have 
remained  what  they  were  previous  to  these  cataclysms.  The 
world  is  upset  to  prove  the  emptiness  and  incapacity  of  all 
these  brainless  innovators,  the  vanity  of  their  illusions,  the 
chimerical  nature  of  their  pi'etensions. 

Not  one  new  work  of  note  was  brought  out  on  the  French 
stage  during  this  new  regime.  "  L'Avanturiere,"  by  Emilie 
Augier,  had  been  written  and  received  previous  to  the  month  of 
February,  and  had,  besides,  no  revolutionary  idea  attached  to 
it.  The  only  thing  accomplished  was  the  transplantation  of 
M.  Ponsard's  "  Lucrece"  from  the  Odeon  to  the  Eue  de  Riche- 
lieu. M.  Ponsard's  tragedy  had  been  originally  intended  for 
the  Theatre  Franfjais,  but  in  consequence  of  the  refusal  of 
messieurs  the  players  in  ordinary  to  his  majesty,  had  been 
brought  out  at  the  Odeon.  This  refusal  had  been  stigmatized 
as  an  act  of  heinous  injustice :  it  was  simply  an  error  of  taste. 

"  Lucrece"  was  acted  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais,  alias  de  la 
Republique,  on  the  24th  of  March,  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
obtained,  as  the  heroine,  great  applause.  Her  calm,  quiet 
dignity  was  peculiarly  well  suited  to  the  character  of  the  fair 
young  Roman  matron.  The  vehemence,  the  passion  with 
which  it  was  acted  by  Madame  Dorval,  who  had  ci'cated  the 
role  at  the  Odeon,  had  disappeared ;  but,  if  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel's acting  was  colder,  it  was  more  correct,  more  classically 
tragic  than  that  of  the  famous  melo-dramatic  actress. 

The  applause  INIademoiselle  Rachel  elicited  in  "  Lucrece" 
was  pci-haps  no  less  due  to  the  allusions  the  play  contained 
than  to  her  talent.  She  produced,  however,  a  great  sensation 
in  the  seemingly  insignificant  line  of  the  dream, 

"  J'cssayais  dc  bouger  et  je  ne  pouvais  pas." 
The  other  passages  of  the  play  that  could  be  interpreted  as 
allusive  to  actual  circumstances  were  received  with  tremen- 
dous applause.     The  lines 

"  C'est  peu  de  songer  a  detruire, 
Si  Ton  no  songe  encor  comme  on  veut  reconstruii'e, " 


186  MEMOIRS    or    RACHEL. 

were  twice  called  for,  and  greeted  with  four  rounds.     The 

lines 

"  Valfere  si  mon  voeu  doit  prevaloir  ni  moi. 
Ni  personne  jamais  ne  se  nommera  roi," 

met  with  the  same  tokens  of  approbation. 

The  theme  of  this  tragedy  is  based  on  Livy's  narrative. 
Those  who  like  political  discussions  dramatized  have  their 
taste  fully  gratified  in  the  second  act.  There  is  very  little 
dialogue ;  the  speeches  are  too  long  to  admit  of  more.  All 
the  dramatis  personce  have  a  great  deal  to  say,  and  take  up  a 
long  while  each  whenever  they  get  a  chance.  Brutus,  espe- 
cially, is  a  great  talker.  The  play  should  end  where  Brutus, 
Bollatinus,  and  Lucretius  kneel  and  invoke  thrice  the  name  of 
Lucrcce. 

The  real  tragedy  of  the  evening  was  "La  Marseillaise," 
into  which  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  no  longer  content  with  the 
tri-colored  flag,  had  introduced  a  new  element.  Nemesis  had 
bound  round  her  waist  the  tri-colored  sash  of  a  Commissary 
of  Police  in  the  exercise  of  his  functions.  Her  patriotism  was 
constantly  on  the  alert  for  new  ways  of  displaying  itself 

'•  A  portion  of  the  members  of  the  provisional  government 
witnessed  this  performance,"  remarks  M.  Hippolyte  Lucas ; 
"  we  have  already  noticed  several  times,  with  pleasure,  the 
presence  in  this  theatre  of  the  citizens  who  have  assumed  the 
responsibility  of  the  state's  great  interests.  This  augurs  well 
for  the  destinies  of  the  stage,  which  are  linked,  more  than  is 
genei-ally  supposed,  with  those  of  the  state.  Three  national 
performances  are  announced.  Let  now  such  authors  as  can 
make  the  heart  of  the  nation  vibrate  come  forward,  and  we 
shall  indeed  have  magnificent  performances.  Paris  will  be 
quite  the  Athens  of  modern  civilization.  It  is  said  that  the 
great  name  of  George  Sand  will  consecrate  the  first  of  these 
performances." 

We  shall  now  see  v.'hat  became  of  this  fine  programme,  and 
how  far  it  realized  its  pompous  announcements. 

The  popular  and  gratuitous  performances  claimed  by  "A 
Workman"  and  decreed  by  Citizen  Ledru  Rollin  took  place. 
The  first,  given  under  the  name  of  "  Premiere  ReprJsentation 
Njvtionale,"  was  described  by  the  same  M.  Hippolyte  Lucas 
who  had  been  one  of  its  promoters : 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  187 

"  With  tlie  exception  of  a  part  of  the  orchestra  reserved  for 
the  members  of  the  provisional  government  and  for  the  press, 
all  the  seats  were  occupied  by — I  will  not  say  the  people,  for 
we  are  all  of  the  people — but  by  that  happy  crowd  whose 
means  do  not  usually  permit  of  their  enjoying  so  choice  a  treat. 
The  triumphant  blouse  leaned  on  the  front  of  the  halcon  ;  the 
caps  of  Rigolette  and  of  Jenny  L'Ouvriere  reigned  in  the  once- 
privileged  boxes ;  and  the  Gamin  do  Paris,  who  had  neglect- 
ed, and  with  good  reason,  going  to  the  printing-office  with  M. 
Paul  de  Kock's  proof-sheets,  in  order  to  hear  George  Sand's 
prologue  of  '  Le  Roi  Attend !'  handed  his  cap  through  the 
ranks  of  the  spectators  for  the  reception  of  popular  donations 
to  be  invested  in  the  purchase  of  a  monster  bouquet  to  be  pre- 
sented to  JNIademoiselle  Rachel  after  the  '  Marseillaise.' 

"  The  spectators  behaved  as  the  Pai'isian  people  usually  do 
at  free  performances.  They  were  remarkably  quiet,  and 
proved  themselves  possessed  of  admirable  instinct  to  under- 
stand all  the  allusions,  of  rare  aptitude  of  heart  and  intellect 
to  note  and  appreciate  all  the  poet's  beauties." 

"  Le  Roi  Attend  !"  was  a  species  of  imitation  of  Moliere's 
"Impromptu  de  Versailles."  Moliere  had  been  busily  en- 
gaged in  the  preparation  of  one  of  the  improvised  pieces  some- 
times asked  for  by  Louis  XIV.  Worn  out  with  fatigue, 
vexed  by  the  ingratitude  of  the  actors,  who  pretended  they 
could  not  play  a  thing  they  had  never  learned,  annoyed  by  the 
messengers  who  were  constantly  sent  to  hurry  him,  the  great 
poet  dropped  asleep  on  the  unfinished  page.  During  his  sleep 
the  background  of  the  stage  filled  with  clouds,  which,  parting, 
disclosed,  surrounded  by  a  halo,  and  grouped  around  the  Muse, 
represented  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  ^Tlschylus,  Sophocles, 
Euripides,  symbolizing  the  poetry  of  the  ancients ;  Shakspeare, 
Voltaire,  and  Beauraarchais,  representatives  of  the  modem 
world.  These  personages,  both  retrospective  and  prospective, 
for  they  represented  to  ]Moliere  the  past  and  the  future,  sus- 
tained and  encouraged  him.  They  related  to  the  sleeping 
poet  the  influence  they  have  had  on  the  human  mind ;  that 
which  he  himself,  Voltaire,  and  Beaumarchais  would  have. 
They  told  him  dramatic  poets  prepared  the  freedom  of  na- 
tions ;  they  sowed  the  seeds  of  revolutions  reaped  by  the  peo- 


188  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

pie.  After  these  philosophical  lessons  the  clouds  closed,  the 
vision  disappeared,  and  the  sleeping  poet  was  awakened  by 
his  faithful  servant,  who  told  him  the  king  was  waiting.  Mo- 
liere  exclaimed,  "  What !  are  there  yet  kings'?" 

The  whole  prologue  was  written  to  bring  in  this  sentence, 
which  contained  all  the  wit  of  the  piece. 

This  time,  howevei",  the  king  who  waited  wore  no  regal 
mantle  or  flowing  wig;  it  was  the  more  powerful  people  of 
1848  whose  sovereignty  was  acknowledged  and  whose  protec- 
tion is  implored  for  the  Theatre  de  la  Republique  by  the  ob- 
sequious poet. 

This  poor  piece  of  flattery,  which  did  little  credit  to  the 
name  of  the  author,  scarcely  survived  the  evening.  It  was 
followed  by  "  Les  Horaces ;"  a  new  song,  "  La  Jeune  Repub- 
lique," composed  by  Madame  Pauline  Viardot,  and  sung  by 
Roger  of  the  Opera  ;  "  Le  Malade  Imaginaire,"  by  Moliere ; 
and  "  La  Marseillaise,"  chanted  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  the 
burden  being  taken  up  and  repeated  by  fifty  of  the  pupils  of 
the  Conservatoire,  dressed  in  white  muslin,  and  wearing  the 
indispensable  ti'i-colored  sash.  An  accompaniment  of  tocsin, 
drums,  cannon,  and  waving  of  banners  came  in  with  the  last 
stanza,  and  quite  delighted  the  audience,  who  encored  the  noisy 
patriotism  most  enthusiastically. 

The  evening  was  concluded  with  the  presentation  of  the 
Brobdignagian  bouquet.  This  national  offering  was  made  in 
the  name  of  the  people  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel  by  the  afore- 
said Gamin  de  Paris,  who  climbed  over  the  foot-lights  for  the 
purpose.  Loud  applause  greeted  this  ovation,  and  a  second 
collection  was  made  for  the  poor,  in  order  to  show  that  the 
tax  "to  which  the  latter  are  entitled  on  ordinary  nights  was 
not  forgotten  on  free  ones. 

No  cost,  no  flattery,  no  trouble  was  spared  to  please  the 
people.  The  greatest  artists  were  brought  together,  and  in- 
vention was  tasked  to  diversify  the  amusements  offered  to 
them.  How  far  all  these  efforts  were  attended  with  success 
was  shown  no  later  than  on  the  second  of  the  free  nights.  Li 
order  to  avoid  offending  the  pride  of  the  many-headed  sover- 
eign, far  more  arbitrary  and  exacting  than  the  one  lately  de- 
l)0sed,  the  performances  were  not  called  free,  but  national. 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  189 

The  second  of  these  repiiisentations  nationales  took  place  on 
the  21st  of  April.  The  result  contrasted  greatly  with  that 
of  the  first  one.  Time  was  speeding  on,  and  bringing  with  it 
the  consequences  of  the  follies  committed.  The  people  began 
to  reflect :  their  leaders  gave  them  circences,  but  without  the 
j}anem  they  had  little  inclination  to  enjoy  them.  Enthusiasm 
had  until  then  been  the  order  of  the  day,  but  enthusiasm  is 
incompatible  with  hunger,  and  it  was  now  at  a  low  ebb.  We 
will  leave  the  partisans  of  le  peuple  to  narrate  the  festive  scene. 
Symptoms  of  dissatisfaction  are  evident  in  the  preamble  of 
this  apologist  of  the  new  state  of  things,  for  he  begins  by  ani- 
madverting on  the  new  name  given  to  the  house. 

"We  have  witnessed  the  second  free  performance  at  the 
Theatre  de  la  Republique.  And  wherefore  Theatre  de  la 
Republique  ?  Was  this  flattery  to  the  new  fonn  of  govern- 
ment that  rules  us  very  necessary?  It  seems  to  us  there  was 
nothing  monarchical  in  the  fair  name  of  Theatre  Fran^ais. 
Known  throughout  the  world,  illustrated  by  so  many  real 
geniuses,  by  so  many  celebrated  interpreters,  it  was  almost 
ingratitude  on  the  part  of  the  players  to  despoil  it  of  this 
great  title.  Well,  what  is  done  can  not  be  helped,  and  so 
now  for  the  Theatre  de  la  Re'publique. 

"  The  night  before  last  was  one  of  free  performance.  Mr. 
Lockroy,  the  new  manager,  and  the  Minister  of  the  Interior 
have  combined  to  invite  the  people  ever}'  fortnight  to  occupy 
the  best  seats,  and  see  the  works  of  the  masters  of  the  drama 
acted  by  the  former  players  in  ordinaiy  to  the  king.  We  had 
expected  to  find  the  house  filled  from  top  to  bottom,  the  boxes 
adorned  with  happy  faces  full  of  astonishment  at  finding  them- 
selves there ;  we  thought  to  have  been  elbowed  in  the  lobby 
by  the  House  and  the  bourgerou,  to  have  heard  loud,  hearty 
peals  of  laughter,  or  frank,  noisy,  unstinted  applause  at  the 
pathetic  parts  of  the  performance.  We  found  nothing  of  all 
this.  In  the  first  place,  the  house  was  almost  empty ;  the  first 
two  rows  of  orchestra  seats  were  filled  with  the  Enfants  de 
Paris;  on  all  the  others  were  members  of  the  provisional  gov- 
ernment, the  chief  functionaries,  a  number  of  the  ofiicers  of 
the  Garde  Urbaine,  and  five  or  six  members  of  the  press  ;  the 
boxes  were  partly  occupied  by  inferior  functionaries  ;  .scatter- 


190  JIE5I0IRS    OF    RACHEL. 

ed  here  and  there  were  a  few  workmen ;  in  a  word,  the  house 
had  all  the  appearance  of  that  of  the  Porte  St.  Martin  on  or- 
dinary occasions.  The  chill  aspect  communicated  itself  to 
the  boards ;  the  performance  of  '  Phedre'  was  weak,  heavy, 
and  monotonous.  The  voices  of  the  Enfants  de  Paris  and  the 
'  Marseillaise'  had  all  the  honors  of  the  evening." 

With  reference  to  the  latter  portion  of  the  entertainment 
the  critic  continued : 

"  We  lack  words  to  express  what  we  feel.  It  is  not  a 
woman,  it  is  not  an  artiste  that  we  see,  it  is  a  goddess  of  an- 
tiquity, solemn,  grave,  austere,  illuminated  by  flaming  I'ays, 
who,  from  the  depths  of  her  cave,  comes  forth  to  fill  our  souls 
with  anger,  hatred,  and  revenge.  When  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
utters  the  revolutionary  hymn,  we  turn  hot  and  cold  by  turns, 
the  blood  rushes  to  the  heart,  the  arteries  throb,  the  eye  quails 
before  the  fixed  look  of  the  pythoness,  and  we  have  not  even 
the  power  of  motion  to  express  all  the  admiration  this  impos- 
ing and  sublime  sight  inspires." 

The  symptoms  of  discouragement  were  too  evident  to  be 
denied.  Notwithstanding  all  these  puffs  to  fill  the  house,  it 
had  remained  empty  ;  notwithstanding  all  the  revolutionary 
convulsions  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  the  few  spectators  had 
remained  frigid.  Yet  the  tragedienne  made  superhuman  ef- 
forts to  fill  the  treasury  and  avert  the  ruin  that  was  impend- 
ing. Her  civism  had  its  source  in  the  anxious  wish  to  sustain 
the  house  whose  ruin  was  sure  to  impoverish  her  own  coffers, 
and  this  motive  was  sufficient  to  call  out  all  her  energy ;  she 
played  without  cessation  and  with  indefatigable  zeal  all  the 
plays  of  her  r^epertoire  in  succession.  While  half  the  theatres 
were  compelled  to  close  and  the  others  were  on  the  verge  of  ruin, 
her  exertions  Avere  mainly  instrumental  in  supporting  the 
house  of  the  Rue  de  Richelieu  for  some  little  time,  and  were 
acknowledged  by  the  societaires  in  the  following  letter : 

"Dear  Camarade, — You  have  double  reason  to  feel  proud 
and  happy.  Never  has  your  success  been  so  brilliant,  never 
has  it  been  so  useful  to  the  interests  of  our  company.  You 
have  struggled  for  us  with  indefatigable  devotion  against  the 
difficult  circumstances  which  for  the  past  two  months  have 


MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL.  191 

afflicted  all  artists.  You  have  maintained  the  Theatre  de  la 
Re'publique  in  a  more  prosperous  state  than  any  other  has 
attained. 

"  We  arc  proud  to  see  in  this,  dear  camarade,  not  so  much 
the  accomplishment  of  a  duty  as  a  proof  of  real  sistefly  friend- 
ship. Actept  in  return  the  unanimous  thanks  of  your  friends 
and  brothers.  They  hope  this  letter,  signed  by  them  all,  will 
remain  to  you  one  of  the  most  precious  monuments  of  your 
dramatic  career ;  for  if  it  is  noble  and  praiseworthy  to  obtain 
triumphs  as  brilliant  as  yours,  it  is  no  less  flattering  to  have 
deserved  the  affection  and  gratitude  of  all  one's  comrades. 

"  The  artists'  societaires  of  Theatre  de  la  Republique." 

Here  followed  all  the  signatures. 

Alas!  this  amity  and  concoi'd  was  to  be  of  short  duration  : 
the  ckere  camarade  was  soon  to  do  battle  as  steadily  against 
these  dearly-beloved  brothers  and  sisters  as  ever  she  had  for 
them ;  to  renounce  the  demigods  of  her  youth,  to  turn  her 
back  on  the  temple,  to  abjure  even  the  "Marseillaise." 

But  we  will  not  anticipate  those  sad  times ;  the  present 
were  quite  bad  enough.  Even  Mademoiselle  Rachel  and  the 
"  Marseillaise"  were  unable  to  make  head  long  against  the 
adverse  wind  then  blowing.  If  the  house  was  empty  on  free 
nights  with  extra  performances,  Avhat  could  be  expected  on 
ordinary  occasions  when  admittance  was  to  be  paid.  The 
Grand  Opera  itself  was  even  less  attended  than  the  theatres. 
Forsaken  by  the  managers,  Mirecourt  and  A.  Adam,  when  it 
took  the  name  of  The'atre  de  la  Nation,  it  had  formed  itself 
into  a  company  in  imitation  of  the  The'atre  Fran^ais ;  but, 
notwithstanding  this  compliment  to  the  nation,  the  latter — at 
least  that  portion  of  it  that  inhabited  Paris — had  its  time  too 
much  taken  up  every  night  by  the  seventy-four  political  clubs 
it  attended  to  have  any  to  spare  for  theatricals.  The  Opera 
had  less  chance  than  the  drama,  lyrical  master-pieces  offering 
no  food  to  the  political  passions  of  the  crowd. 

On  the  loth  of  May,  Monsieur  Charles  de  INIatharcl,  the 
editor  of  "  Le  Siecle,"  who  saw  things  with  less  enthusiastic 
eyes  than  M.  Hippolyte  Lucas,  expressed  himself  as  follows: 

"  We  have  said,  and  all  our  confreres  with  us,  that  it  was 


192  MEMOIRS   OF    RACHEL. 

necessary  something  should  be  done  for  the  theatres ;  that 
they  were  in  such  a  state  of  crisis  that,  should  government 
not  come  promptly  to  the  rescue,  they  would  inevitably  be 
compelled  to  close.  Our  forebodings  have,  alas !  been  real- 
ized ;  several  houses  have  already  been  closed,  others  are  pre- 
paring to  do  likewise,  and,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two 
that  are  maintained  by  a  subsidy,  Paris  will  not  have  a  single 
theatre!" 

To  this  point,  in  the  space  of  two  months  and  a  half,  had 
the  Republic  of  the  24th  of  February  brought  dramatic  art. 
The  provisional  government  had  other  work  on  its  hands  than 
to  attend  to  the  requirements  of  the  stage.  It  had  now  no 
time  to  share  the  amusements  of  the  triumphant  blouse,  to 
sit  between  the  caps  of  Rigolette  and  Jenny  L'Ouvriere. 
Nor  did  the  governed  fail  to  taunt  their  chosen  government 
with  the  disheartening  prospect. 

"  The  existence  of  a  hundred  thousand  persons  is  of  so  lit- 
tle importance !  Artists,  men  busy  with  literary  and  dramatic 
works,  are  of  so  little  consequence,  it  matters  little  what  be- 
comes of  them !  Truly,  those  who  govern  have  something 
else  to  do  than  to  trouble  themselves  about  such  people ! 
Besides,  artists  have  no  pickaxes,  spades,  and  shovels;  they 
do  not  go  down  into  the  street  in  warlike  array,  with  flags 
and  drums ;  they  do  not  talk  loudly ;  they  make  no  threats, 
neither  do  they  obtain  any  thing,  and  presently  they  and  their 
families,  and  all  the  little  trades  and  callings,  artistic,  literary, 
and  dramatic,  that  ai^e  more  or  less  dependent  on  the  theatres 
for  means  to  earn  their  bread,  must  starve. 

"  The  result  of  all  this  is  that  the  Republic  gets  few  beni- 
sons  among  artists." 

After  all  these  lamentations  and  recriminations,  it  became 
necessary  to  beg  assistance.  Five  hundred  francs  per  evening 
was  asked  for  each  theatre.  It  was  proposed  that,  in  requital, 
tickets  to  that  amount  should  be  sent  to  the  mairies,  to  be  dis- 
tributed gratuitously.  To  this  was  to  be  added  a  free  per- 
formance once  a  week.  It  was  not  boi'ne  in  mind  that  on  the 
21st  of  the  preceding  month,  the  innovator,  Lockroy,  aided 
by  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  had  failed  to  attract  an  aud- 
ience, thougli  the   entertainment  consisted  of  Mademoiselle 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  193 

Rachel  in  "  Phedre"  and  "La  Marseillaise,"  with  the  provis- 
ional government  to  boot. 

A  month  later,  on  the  18th  of  June,  matters  were  still  in  a 
deplorable  state,  and  this  was  made  more  apparent  by  the  pub- 
lication of  the  receipts  of  this  year,  compared  with  those  of 
the  preceding  one,  when  the  people  lived  under  a  monarchy, 
the  destruction  of  which  was  to  bring  about  such  happy 
changes. 

Tlie  following  table  shows  the  receipts  of  the  first  three 
months  of  each  year  in  seven  theatres : 

13i7.  1S43. 

Varictes 22S,4.">5.25  133,906.50 

Gymnase 218,oG2.uO  103,191.70 

Montansier 222,218.20  118,195.65 

Porte  St.  Martin 199,146.25  122,33-1.65 

Folies  Dramatiques 107,29-1.40  096,918.70 

Delassements  Coiniqucs      37,688.70  22,331.85 

Funambules 2r),735  7,751.90 

Francs  1,039,100.30  604,693.95 

The  above  shows  a  falling  off  of  nearly  fifty  per  cent,  in 
1848. 

It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  government  securities  depreciated 
in  nearly  the  same  ratio,  as  may  be  seen  by  the  following 
quotations : 

On  the  19th  of  February,  1848,  the  5  per  cents,  were  at 
llGy,^  francs,  and  on  the  loth  of  June  at  G-S  francs. 

On  the  19th  of  February,  1848,  the  3  per  cents,  were  at 
74^°y-  francs,  and  on  the  loth  of  June  at  46  francs. 

The  stage  lost  at  this  time  one  of  whom  it  had  reason  to 
be  proud,  the  comic  actor  Vernet.  The  memory  of  this  ex- 
cellent actor  and  worthy  man,  whose  reputation  and  talent 
were  far  above  the  vulgar  and  obscure  theatre  that  he  illus- 
trated by  his  numerous  and  varied  creations,  was  not  honored 
by  a  single  tribute  of  homage  or  of  kind  remembrance.  Not 
one  of  the  authors  who  were  indebted  to  him  for  fame  or 
wealth  found  a  word  to  say  over  the  grave  of  the  proud  and 
witty  Plre  cle  la  debutante,  of  the  lover  of  Madame  dEgmont, 
of  the  grotesque  representative  of  Madame  Gibon,  of  Mathlas 
rinvalide,  and  of  so  many  other  original  and  charming  types. 
It  is  true  that  Vernet  did  not  pertain  to  that  class  of  artists 

I 


194  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

who  make  use  of  their  talents  to  evoke  popular  passions,  to 
provoke  the  effusion  of  blood,  to  excite  fratricidal  hates,  to 
brave  absent  foes.  At  an  epoch  very  anterior,  and  during 
the  effervescence  of  a  former  revolution,  Vernet  was  called 
upon  to  give  the  sanguinary  hymn  of  "Eouget  de  I'lsle."  He 
answered  the  request  neither  by  singing,  chanting,  or  reciting 
'it.  He  gave  proof  on  this  occasion  of  the  ready  wit  and  good 
sense  that  characterized  his  honest  and  peace-loving  soul.  It 
was  in  the  year  1830,  a  vaudeville,  entitled  "Le  Mendiant," 
was  acting  at  the  Yarietes,  and  Vernet  had  the  j^art  of  the 
beggar  fiddler.  At  that  passage  where  he  asks  his  friend 
what  he  shall  play  to  him,  a  voice  from  the  pit  cried  "  La 
Marseillaise!"  to  which  a  large  proportion  of  the  audience 
thundered  "  No !"  To  avert  the  impending  disturbance, 
Vernet  immediately  commenced  playing  the  well-known  old 
air  of  "  J'ai  du  bon  tabac." 

In  the  month  of  May  Mademoiselle  Eachel  tried  another 
scheme  to  attract  the  public.  She  had  remarked  that  in  M. 
Ponsard's  tragedy  the  two  chief  female  characters,  Lucrcce 
and  Tallie,  never  come  on  the  stage  in  the  same  scene.  This 
suggested  the  idea  of  playing  both  parts  the  same  evening. 
The  experiment  M'as  tried  on  the  boards  of  the  Italian  Opera 
House  on  the  occasion  of  a  benefit  obtained  by  her  sister 
Sarah,  and  proved  a  complete  failure.  Notwithstanding  the 
difference  of  costume,  the  result  was  a  confusion  in  the  minds 
of  the  spectators  that  quite  marred  the  effect.  Mademoiselle 
Rachefs  features  did  not  possess  the  mobility  of  expression 
iadispensable  for  such  a  task.  Half  the  time  the  audience 
were  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  it  was  Lucrcce  or  Tullie  that 
was  speaking. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that,  in  order  to  draw  full  houses, 
the  dignity  of  tragedy  had  been  lowered  by  the  use  of  these 
clap-trap  disguises.  But  the  experiment  rarely  meets  with 
any  success.  Comedies,  written  expressly  for  the  purpose, 
such  as.  "  Frosine,  ou  la  Derniere  Venue,"  "Les  Jumeaux 
Venitiens,"  and  others,  have  been  tolerated,  but  tragedy  will 
not  bear  these  Carnival  tricks. 

After  this  season  of  unusually  active  service,  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  took  her  customary  leave  of  absence. 


JfEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  195 


^  CHAPTEIi  XX. 

lSi8. 

Three  Months  in  the  South  of  France. — Rachel  a  licensed  Propagand- 
ist.— Visit  to  Madame  Lafarge. — A  public  Confession. — A  hard- 
hearted Father. — Return  to  Paris. — Sketch  of  the  Organization  of 
the  Theatre  Fran^ais. — The  Priestess  turns  her  back  on  the  Temple. 
— A  Visit  of  the  Faculty. — An  uncourteous  Public. 

Eaciiel  spent  three  months  this  year  in  the  south  of  France, 
pursuing  fortune  indefatigably  and  playing  Avithout  cessation 
almost.  She  performed  eighty  times  in  ninety  days  during 
the  summer  months,  and  in  more  than  twenty  different  local- 
ities. 

A  singular  circumstance,  and  one  little  known,  connected 
with  this  tour,  is  that,  before  leaving  Paris,  the  trafjedknne 
actually  offered  her  services  to  the  provisional  government  to 
popularize  tlie  Eepublic  in  the  Departments  by  singing  the 
"Marseillaise"  Avherever  she  played!  The  offer  was  accept- 
ed by  Ledru  Rollin,  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  who  caused 
the  following  circular  to  be  addressed  to  all  theatrical  mana- 
gers in  the  provinces,  recommending  Mademoiselle  Eachel  to 
their  kind  offices,  and  enjoining  them  to  render  her  all  aid  in 
the  exercise  of  her  ministry  as  a  Propagandist : 

"Cabinet  of  the  Minister  de  ITntericur,  Paris,  April  24,  1848. 

"Citizen  Manager, — Citizen  Felix  having  assembled  a 
company  with  which  he  intends  visiting  various  parts  of 
France,  it  is  his  intention  to  have  the  master-pieces  of  our 
stage  performed,  the  Citoyenne  Rachel  volunteering  to  be  their 
interpreter.  The  Citoyenne  Eachel  has  broken  engagements 
to  a  large  amount  which  she  had  abroad,  in  order  to  remain 
in  France! 

"The  devotion  she  has  shown  to  the  Eepublic  in  Paris  by 
her  admirable  creation  of  the  'Marseillaise'  slie  intends  dis- 
playing in  the  Departments. 

The  electricity  (!)  she  has  diffused  here  will  doubtless  pro- 


w 


196  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

duce  also  the  most  marvelous  and  salutary  effects  in  our  prov- 
inces. It  is  in  the  name  of  art,  over  which  the  Republic  in- 
tends extending  its  powerful  and  fertilizing  protection,  that  I 
request  you  will  take  into  consideration  the  sacrifices  she 
makes,  and  lend  your  assistance  to  facilitate  the  performances 
which  Citizen  Raphael  P'elix  intends  organizing  in  your  town. 
"  Salut  et  Fraternite. 

"  Elias  Regnault, 
"  Director,  ad  interim,  of  Theatres  and  Libraries." 

M.  Leon  Legault,  allured  by  the  bright  prospects,  held  out 
in  this  cii'cular,  entered  into  an  agreement  with  the  Felixes, 
father,  son,  and  daughter,  by  which  it  was  stipulated  they 
should  receive,  free  of  all  expense,  4400  francs  from  the  gen- 
eral management  of  the  Lyons  theati'es.  This  agreement  was 
rescinded,  and  a  second  one  made,  by  which  the  expenses  oc- 
casioned by  each  performance  were  to  be  at  the  charge  of  the 
Felixes,  they  receiving  the  whole  amount  of  the  receipts  made, 
with  the  sole  condition  of  paying  1000  francs  per  night  to  Mr. 
Legault. 

The  non-execution  of  this  agreement  entailed  a  forfeit  of 
5000  francs  unless  its  fulfillment  was  rendered  impossible  by 
war  or  some  other  public  calamity. 

The  tragedienne,  either  deeming  she  could  gain  more  else- 
where, or  actuated  by  some  other  motive,  altei-ed  her  mind  and 
her  course,  carrying  the  "  Mai-seillaise"  to  Toulouse,  Montpel- 
lier,  Nimes,  Aries,  Aix,  Marseilles,  &c.,  &c.  This  propagand- 
ist expedition  was  sufficiently  remunerative  to  enable  her  to 
pay,  without  impoverishing  herself,  the  5000  francs  forfeit  to 
which  the  tribunal  condemned  her  at  the  suit  of  M.  Legault 
for  having  neglected  to  popularize  the  Republic  in  Lyons  ac- 
cording to  the  terms  of  her  contract. 

It  was  during  this  year's  visit  to  Montpellier  that  Rachel 
obtained  permission  of  the  authorities,  and  of  the  captive  her- 
self, to  visit  Madame  Lafarge,  then  imprisoned  in  the  Maison 
Centralc  of  that  town. 

The  unfortunate  woman  made  a  deep  impression  on  her 
visitor.  She  could  not  but  feel  great  interest  in  one  who,  in- 
nocent or  guilty,  had  acquired  so  terrible  a  celebrity,  and  was 
suffering  so  cruel  a  doom. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  197 

One  thing  particularly  impressed  Mademoiselle  Kaclicl :  she 
plainly  saw  on  the  prisoner's  features  the  seal  of  the  fatal  dis- 
ease of  which  she  herself  and  her  sister  wei-e  to  die.  Describ- 
ing this  interview  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  she  alluded  very  feel- 
ingly to  the  symptoms  of  consumption  she  had  noticed  in 
Madame  Lafarge,  saying, 

"  The  poor  woman — whether  guilty  or  not,  I  must  call 
her  so — the  poor  woman  was  slowly  dying  of  that  most  terri- 
ble of  all  diseases,  consumption.  She  feels  tlie  skein  of  life's 
thread  unwinding,  and,  to  the  very  last,  she  will  see,  she  will 
feel.  It  is  very  dreadful.  Better  far  a  bullet  in  the  weak 
chest,  or  a  tile  falling  on  the  aching  head  some  windy  day." 

Did  the  Avriter  then  presage  her  own  fate  when  she  ex- 
pressed such  horror  of  another's  1 

Mademoiselle  Kachel  afterward  told  her  friends  that  she 
had  consulted  several  clairvoyants,  and  that  to  her  inquiry 
whether  Madame  Lafarge  Avas  guilty,  the  answer  had  always 
been  in  the  negative.  This  was  probably  more  satisfactory  to 
her  than  such  evidence  would  have  been  to  judge  or  jury. 

Her  tour  was  marked  by  other  incidents  of  a  less  gloomy 

nature.     In  this  same  town,  II ,  the   actor  who  played 

the  part  o£  T/teiranenes,  was  hissed  in  the  famous  narrative  of 
the  death  of  Ilipjwlyte.  He  immediately  advanced  to  the 
foot-lights,  and,  addressing  the  public  with  imperturbable  sang 
froid,  said,  "  JIa  foi,  gentlemen,  you  are  quite  right;  I  said 
it  shockingly ;  but  never  mind,  I'll  begin  it  all  over  again." 

Phklre,  who  Avas  waiting  in  the  slips  for  the  moment  when 
she  is  to  drink  the  poison  {que  Medce  apporta  dans  Athcnes), 
laughed  heartily  at  this  confession. 

At  Draguignan,  Fleurct,  who  played  the  part  of  Theseus, 
worn  out  with  his  constant  night-work  and  day-traveling,  fell 
fast  asleep  while  listening  to  the  above-mentioned  narrative 
of  his  son's  horrible  death.  A  very  vigorous  reminder  be- 
stowed upon  his  shins  was  required  to  rouse  him  in  time  to 
exclaim, 

"O  mon  fils,  cher  espoir  que  je  me  siiis  ravi."' 

But  while  Rachel  was  away  reaping  the  rich  summer  har- 
vests, the  green-room  intrigues  and  spirit  of  revolt,  Avhich  the 
necessity  of  union  had  momentarily  quelled,  began  to  ferment 


198  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

anew,  and  on  her  return  in  Septemljer  she  found  her  own 
empire  undermined,  and  hei'  favorite,  the  dictator,  whom  she 
had  been  so  instrumental  in  creating,  on  the  eve  of  being  ex- 
pelled.    The  dismissal  of  Citizen  Loekroy  was  imminent. 

It  is  difficult  for  those  unacquainted  with  Vrenoh  customs 
to  have  any  idea  of  the  importance  attached  by  the  public  to 
all  that  concerns  the  stage,  of  the  absorbing  interest  taken  by 
the  Parisians  in  the  quarrels  of  actors,  in  the  vicis.«itudes  of 
their  theatres,  in  the  green-room  intrigues.  The  high  honor 
in  which  dramatic  literature  is  held  contributes  greatly  toward 
excitin2:  this  interest.  Actors  in  France  are  not  left  to  their 
own  resources,  as  is  the  case  in  other  countries.  The  French 
government  grants  considerable  subsidies  to  the  larger  theatres, 
in  order  to  enable  them  to  add  eclat  to  their  performances,  to 
afford  to  their  artists  the  leisure  necessary  to  perfect  their 
studies,  to  remunerate  the  talent  employed.  The  influence 
of  government  is  not  so  materially  felt  by  the  minor  theatres, 
though  its  protection  and  encouragement  is  also  extended  to 
them.  Among  the  houses  to  which  the  subsidy  is  granted, 
the  chief  are  the  Grand  Opera  and  the  Theatre  P^-angais. 
The  Grand  Opera,  one  of  the  greatest  attractions  the  capital 
oifers  to  foreigners,  is,  in  part,  a  dependence  of  the  crown,  and, 
since  its  creation  by  Louis  XIV.,  all  the  succeeding  sovereigns 
have  felt  a  pride  in  sustaining  it  with  eclat.  As  to  the  Thea- 
tre Francais,  or  La  Coraedie  Fran^-ais,  as  it  is  indifferently 
called,  its  actors  are  looked  upon  as  the  chosen  and  enlighten- 
ed interpreters  of  that  dramatic  literature  which  is  one  of  the 
glories  of  France.  The  actors  reap  the  benefit  of  the  worship 
tributed  to  the  genius  of  Corneille,  Racine,  Moliere,  R^gnard, 
Voltaire,  and  so  many  other  master-minds.  Hence  the  lively 
interest  with  which  the  public  regards  every  thing  that  con- 
cerns them.  Their  lawsuits  are  matters  of  public  import ;  the 
most  distinguished  lawyers  dispute  the  honor  of  figuring  in 
them  ;  and  the  public  journals  follow  the  cases  as  though  the 
fate  of  the  countiy  was  at  stake. 

That  the  reader  may  the  better  understand  the  nature  and 
the  object  of  the  dissensions  between  jMademoiselle  Rachel 
and  tlie  Theatre  Fran^nis,  dissensions  which  the  law  was 
called  upon  to  settle  at  the  close  of  this  year,  a  slight  sketch 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  199 

of  the  peculiar  organization  of  that  theatre  is  indispensable. 
Without  tliis  commentary,  this  portion  of  our  work  would 
prove  to  some  persons  unintelligible. 

The  actors  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  constitute,  in  fact,  a 
commercial  association.  The  talent  of  each  member  is  the 
portion  of  capital  he  brings  into  it,  and,  according  to  the  valu- 
ation put  on  this  intellectual  property,  each  is  entitled  to 
what  is  called  a  half,  a  quarter,  an  eighth,  three  quarters  of  a 
share,  or  a  full  share  in  the  profits  of  the  theatre,  which  are 
divided  into  twenty-four  shares.  When  all  the  shares  are 
taken,  the  personnel  of  the  theatre  is  not  j'et  sufficiently 
numerous  for  its  requirements ;  to  supply  the  deficiency,  the 
holders  of  shares,  that  is,  the  comcdiens  societaires,  engage  what 
are  called  pensionn aires.  The  pensionnaires  are  actors  with 
fixed  salaries  paid  by  soci''taires.  These  salaries  diminish  the 
profits  of  the  company,  and  constitute  one  of  its  charges. 

Tlie  company  is  governed  by  a  committee  of  management, 
composed  of  six  male  members.  The  company  has  also  the 
privilege  of  being  the  arbiter  of  literary  merit,  as  it  is  to  a 
comite  de  lecture,  composed  of  male  and  female  members,  that 
all  plays  presented  to  the  theatre  are  submitted,  and  this  last 
committee  has  a  riglit  to  refuse,  to  receive  fully  or  condition- 
ally, at  its  o\\Ti  discretion,  any  play. 

This  constitutional  charter,  which  had  existed  for  many 
years,  was  confirmed  by  a  decree  known  as  the  "Decree  of 
Moscow,"  from  its  having  been  signed  by  Napoleon  I.  in  that 
city  on  the  loth  of  October,  1815.  By  virtue  of  this  decree, 
the  free  action  of  the  company  is  only  subject  to  the  surveil- 
lance of  the  superintendent  of  the  coui't  performance  and  to 
that  of  the  imperial  commissioner ;  its  committees  regulate 
the  material,  financial,  and  artistic  afifairs  of  the  theatre  with 
almost  uncontrolled  freedom.  Certcs,  no  oriianization  can  be 
more  liberal ;  none  could  seem  better  calculated  to  stimulate 
the  actors  to  do  their  utmost  for  the  prosperity  of  their  house, 
since  whatsoever  they  do  is  for  their  own  interests,  and  the 
value  of  their  shares  is  increased  according  to  the  benefits  re- 
alized ;  it  places  them,  moreover,  in  a  position  of  honorable  in- 
dependence, and  should  have  the  effect  of  maintaining  peace 
and  concord  among  them,  as  they  are  themselves  the  arbiters 


200  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

of  all  the  little  discussions,  the  rivalries,  bickerings,  and  quar- 
rels arising  from  wounded  vanity  and  irritated  self-love,  insep- 
arable to  tlie  profession.  Unfortunately,  the  facts  have  always 
been  far  from  justifying  this  fair  conclusion.  At  the  time 
the  Decree  of  Moscow  was  published,  bitter  dissensions,  enven- 
omed rivalries — among  others,  that  which  reigned  between 
Mademoiselle  Mars  and  Mademoiselle  Levert,  divided  the 
company.  The  decree  was  the  qiios  ego  !  of  him  who  was  ac- 
customed to  see  all  things  return,  at  his  command,  within  the 
limits  of  order. 

After  the  fall  of  the  Empire,  the  company  went  on,  some- 
what lamely,  to  be  sure,  under  the  rather  lax  surveillance  of 
messieui's  the  gentlemen  of  the  bed-chamber,  who  had  been 
brought  back  by  the  Restoration,  taking  refuge,  ever  and 
anon,  against  any  real  or  fancied  infringement  of  its  privileges 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Decree  of  Moscow,  as  under  the  Pal- 
ladium of  its  independence.  But,  like  all  other  bodies,  after 
1830  it  began  to  experience  the  effects  of  the  dissolving  spirit 
of  the  times.  Matters  came  to  such  a  pass  that,  in  1847,  the 
WTetched  management,  the  intestine  strife,  the  bad  state  of  its 
financial  affairs,  made  the  intei-position  of  government  indis- 
pensable. By  a  decree  published  on  the  29th  of  August,  a 
chief  was  appointed  to  the  disorganized  republic.  The  di- 
rector chosen  was  M.  Buloz,  a  man  of  letters  of  some  reputa- 
tion, who  had  given  proof  of  his  capacity  for  management  in 
the  successful  organization  of  the  "Kevue  dcs  deux  Mondes," 
a  monthly  publication.  The  nomination  of  M.  Buloz  in  the 
place  of  the  committee  of  management  Avas  a  complete  revo- 
lution for  the  company  ;  the  new  director  was,  by  some  of  the 
members,  received  as  a  usurper,  by  others  as  a  liberator. 

The  continual  complaints  of  Mademoiselle  Eachel,  which 
always  found  favor  with  those  in  authority,  her  threats  of 
resignation  as  far  back  as  the  year  1846,  had  largely  contrib- 
uted to  bring  about  the  measures  that  had  finally  caused  the 
nomination  of  M.  Buloz.  From  the  beginning  she  had  de- 
clared herself  in  favor  of  the  dictatorship,  and  from  that  time 
she  had  been  the  soul  of  the  party  that  had  sustained  it  ever 
since  its  first  creation. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel  had  a  whole  share  in  the  company 


MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  201 

and  forty-two  thousand  francs  out  of  the  subvention  granted 
by  the  slate.  Consequently,  it  was  for  her  interest  that  the 
theatre  should  be  ably  managed,  and  made  to  give  large  prof- 
its. It  was  no  less  for  her  interests  that  it  should  keep  on 
good  terms  with  every  government.  She  knew  well,  too,  that 
an  actress  of  more  than  ordinary  talent,  a  young  and  pretty 
woman,  would  have  a  far  better  chance  of  ruling  a  manager, 
however  absolute  he  might  be,  than  a  committee  of  six  men, 
all  actuated  by  different  views,  claims,  and  passions. 

Tliese  considerations  led  Mademoiselle  Kachel  to  lend  all 
her  influence  to  the  election  of  M.  Lockroy,  the  republican 
commissary  Avho  succeeded  M.  Buloz,  expelled  in  February. 
But  revolutions  are  moving  sands.  When  the  revolutionary 
fever  had  cooled  ofi^,  and  while  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  away 
on  leave,  the  independent  party  raised  its  head  in  the  com- 
mittee. M.. Lockroy  was  attacked  ;  his  provisional  origin,  his 
national  performances,  his  "  Marseillaise,"  were  made  as  great 
reproaches  of  as  the  ministerial  origin  of  M.  Buloz  had  for- 
merly been.  M.  Lockroy  was  in  his  turn  assaulted  by  his 
very  constituents,  and  Avhen  his  Arm  ally.  Mademoiselle  Ea- 
chel,  returned,  his  fall  was  decreed,  and  it  actually  took  place 
in  the  beginning  of  October.  His  dismissal  angered  Made- 
moiselle Rachel  exceedingly ;  it  wounded  her  vanity  and  in- 
jured her  interests.  She  resolved  on  the  most  energetic 
measures  rather  than  fall  again  under  the  democratic  yoke  of 
her  peei's,  whom  she  refused  to  look  upon  as  her  equals.  She 
had  recommenced  her  theatrical  duties  on  her  return  from  her 
summer  tour,  opening  the  season  with  "  Phedre"  on  the  5th 
of  September.  The  "  Marseillaise"  was  called  for  but  not 
given.  The  episodes  of  June  had  taken  place ;  a  reaction, 
of  which  Jules  Janin  had  shown  himself  one  of  the  most  en- 
ergetic and  courageous  organs,  had  followed,  and  the  change 
in  public  opinion  was  evident  from  the  coldness  with  which 
the  call  was  received  by  the  majority  of  the  audience.  The 
staac-manaprcr  came  forward  and  said  Madcmoisella  Rachel 
was  troubled  with  a  cold. 

On  the  12th  of  October  Mademoiselle  Rachel  again  attempt- 
ed a  part  unsuited  to  her  age  and  style.  She  played  Agrip- 
pine  in  "  Britannicus,"  and  failed  completely  in  it. 

12 


202  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  hoped,  by  her  alacrity  in  resum- 
ing her  duties,  to  maintain  M.  Lockroy  in  power;  finding  her 
wishes  disregarded  and  her  ally  dismissed,  she  resoited  to  her" 
former  threats  of  resigning,  and  finally  did  so.  The  I'csigna- 
tion  was  duly  notified  to  her  "  dear  comrades"  in  a  letter  dated 
the  14th  of  October.  She  had  now  completed  the  term  of 
service — ten  years — specified  by  the  Decree  of  Moscow  to  ena- 
ble a  socictaire  to  resign.  The  last  phrase  of  her  letter  con- 
tains the  reasons  she  gives  for  her  determination. 

"It  is  with  regret,"  says  this  thorough  actress,  "it  is  with 
the  deepest  grief,  my  dear  comrades,  that  I  find  myself  under 
the  necessity  of  retiring  forever  from  the  Theatre  Frangais, 
but  my  health,  perhaps  my  dignity,  are  depending  on  that  step." 

The  committee  was,  or  appeared  to  be,  surprised. 

"What,"  exclaimed  its  members,  on  the  receipt  of  this  let- 
ter, "  Mademoiselle  Rachel  ill !  Why,  she  was  never  better 
in  her  life  than  she  is  this  year,  and  never  performed  her  duties 
so  well.  She  has  played  once  in  Mai'ch,  thirteen  times  in 
April,  thirteen  times  in  May.  If  we  count  the  number  of 
times  she  has  performed  during  her  covgc,  we  shall  find  she 
played  twenty-seven  times  in  one  month  I  She  may  require 
rest  after  such  fatiguing  labors ;  we  are  aware  that  she  is  in 
the  habit  of  getting  her  physicians  to  prescribe  periods  of  con- 
valescence every  time  she  returns  from  her  periodical  excur- 
sions ;  but  this  does  not  constitute  an  illness  ;  it  would,  on  the 
contrary,  go  to  prove  a  most  energetic  nature." 

The  committee  thereupon  endeavored  to  induce  Mademoi- 
.selle  Rachel  to  retract  so  ill-grounded  a  resolution.  Her  an- 
swer was  not  delayed,  and  in  it  something  of  the  true  motives 
that  actuated  her  peeps  out. 

"  I  am  no  longer  able,  lohcn  thus  annoyed  and  vexed,  to  fulfill 
the  duties  of  the  art  to  which  I  have  devoted  my  life." 

Here  she  no  longer  complains  of  health  ;  wounded  self-love 
is  the  grievance. 

All  measures  of  conciliation  appearing  useless,  the  manage- 
ment had  recourse  to  the  law,  and  a  suit  was  commenced  on 
the  20th  of  November,  before  the  civil  tribunal  of  the  Seine. 
A  letter,  however,  from  Mademoiselle  Rachel  to  the  commit- 
tee (no  longer  her  "  dear  comrades")  stopped  the  proceedings 
for  H  time.     It  was  couched  in  the  following  terms; 


MEMOIRS    or    RACHEL.  203 

"  Messikurs, — The  state  of  my  health  is  such  that  the 
euit  you  have  commenced  on  the  20th  of  this  month  has  in 
reality  no  object  and  no  immediate  urgency.  »  *  »  * 
I  am  not  able  to  act.  The  physicians  attached  to  the  theatre 
are  welcome  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  this  statement,  and  I  am 
willing  to  receive  their  visit." 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  then  proposes  that  the  suit  brought 
against  her  be  allowed  to  rest  for  a  while,  and  requests  her 
comrades  will  remember  that  her  devotion  to  the  interests  of 
the  theatre  has  occasioned  the  ruin  of  her  health.  She  then 
goes  on  to  say : 

"  I  have  notified  to  you  my  resignation  or  my  retirement. 
I  am  legally  entitled  to  do  so,  and  it  is  my  firm  intention  to 
adhere  to  it.  If  it  is  required  that  I  should  reiterate  my  de- 
cision within  one  year  from  the  date  of  the  14th  of  October, 
and  if  my  doing  so  will  put  a  stop  to  all  difficulties,  I  am  will- 
ing to  do  so." 

The  offer  to  submit  to  the  decision  of  the  faculty  and  the 
delay  of  one  year  thus  proposed  stopped  the  suit. 

The  17th  of  December  was  appointed  for  the  medical  visit. 
It  was  at  the  residence  of  Mademoiselle  Kachel,  No.  10  Rue 
de  Rivoli,  that  this  scene,  worthy  the  pen  of  the  immortal  au- 
thor of  "  Le  Malade  Imaginaire,"  took  place.  The  doctors, 
her  adversaries,  deputed  to  report  her  in  excellent  health, 
found  her  on  the  defensive,  guarded  by  her  own  physician, 
Doctor  Denis,  equally  determined  to  make  her  out  ill  before 
and  against  all  men.  This  champion,  omitting  none  of  the 
diagnostic  and  prognostical  signs  on  which  he  could  base  his 
client's  malady  and  establish  its  nature,  asserted  that  she  had 
been  greatly  indisposed  for  the  last  six  weeks ;  that  she  «uf- 
fered  from  fits  of  pain  in  her  chest,  fever,  want  of  sleep,  and 
progressive  falling  away.  As  the  patient's  appearance  did  not 
corroborate  this  "  progressive  thinning,"  she  met  this  objection 
by  the  ackno\Aledgment  that  she  had  been  "  improving  lately." 
The  visitors,  finding  no  fever  or  other  symptoms  to  warrant 
the  assertion  of  illness,  decided  that  a  fortnight's  rest  was  all 
she  required  to  enable  her  to  resume  her  duties. 

But  there  was    another  tribunal  of  ftir  more  importance, 


204  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

whose  verdict  the  tragedienne  had  not  thought  of — another  far 
more  severe  judge  summoned  her  to  give  a  reason  for  her  in- 
action during  four  months.  The  public,  in  its  turn,  instituted 
an  inquiry,  and  the  result  was  not  favorable  to  her.  We  are 
seldom  disposed  to  indulgence  toward  those  who  deprive  us 
of  our  pleasures.  Her  conduct  was  severely  censured,  and 
set  down  as  the  capricious  malice  of  an  imperious  woman. 
The  republican  public,  less  patient  and  courteous  than  had 
been  the  monai-chical  one,  manifested  its  opinions  rather  rude- 
ly. In  the  sort  of  vaudeville  review  of  the  year  brought  out 
on  the  stage  at  its  close,  some  complimentary  stanzas  to  Made- 
moiselle Kachel  having  been  introduced,  wereloudly  hissed. 

Thus  closed,  for  Mademoiselle  Kachel,  the  year  1848,  com- 
menced amid  such  applause.  She  might  comfort  herself  with 
the  thought  that  the  noisy  token  of  disapprobation  that  closed 
her  short-lived  popular  career  offered  a  resemblance  to  the 
republican  ovations  of  former  times ;  the  hiss  that  pursued 
the  Roman  generals  amid  their  triumphs  had  been  revived  for 
her  benefit. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

1849. 


A  spoiled  Child. — Proscription  of  "Cinna." — "  Le  Moineau  de  Les- 
bie.'' — The  real  Adrienne  Lecouvreur. — Funeral  Honors  to  theat- 
rical Talent  in  France  and  in  England  in  1730. — The  Adrienne  Le- 
couvreur of  ^lessrs.  Scribe  and  Legouve. — A  characteristic  Letter. 

The  motives  that  kept  Mademoiselle  Rachel  from  the  stage 
during  the  last  three  months  of  the  year  1848  have  been  given. 
In  accordance  with  the  decision  .of  the  faculty,  she  should  have 
made  her  appearance  on  the  2d  of  January,  1849 ;  but  she 
contrived  to  suggest  so  many  delays  that  the  long-expected 
event  did  not  take  place  until  the  13th.  The  attitude  of  the 
public  revealed  a  deeper  displeasure  than  was  usually  mani- 
fested by  its  coldness  on  former  occasions  of  reappearance ; 
it  was  decidedly  hostile.  It  was  a  sullen,  brooding  discon- 
tent, that  was  evidently  waiting  to  seize  the  first  opportunity 
of  breaking  out  in  open  murmurs.     The  actress  could  not  mis- 


MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  205 

take  the  feeling  that  actuated  her  audience ;  but,  as  was  al- 
ways the  case  with  her,  the  more  dfliicult  the  situation,  the 
more  energy  and  courage  she  displayed  ;  the  greater  the  anger 
of  the  public,  the  more  winning  and  fascinating  she  became. 
She  invariably  acted  the  part  of  the  spoiled  child  that  is  sure 
to  conquer  in  the  end,  whatever  degree  of  severity  may  be 
shown  to  it  at  first.  The  wish  to  reinstate  herself  in  the  fa- 
A'or  of  the  public  produced  an  excitement  of  her  nervous  sys- 
tem that  resembled  depth  of  feeling,  and  lent  an  indescribable 
charm  to  her  acting.  The  tragedy  was  "  Andromaque,"  and 
never  had  the  actress  played  with  such  rare  perfection.  The 
result  was  a  free  pai-don,  manifested  by  immense  applause. 
The  Prince  President  honored  the  performance  with  his  pres- 
ence. 

Amonsr  the  signs  of  the  times  was  the  withdrawal  of  the 
play  of  "  Cinna,"  that  had  been  announced  for  Mademoiselle 
Rachel's  rentrce-  If  she  had  chosen  this  tragedy  as  an  expia- 
tion of  past  sins,  this  Parthian  arrow  shot  at  her  provisional 
friends  of  1848  was  in  bad  taste.  The  government  of  the 
Prince  President  showed  more  tact  and  judgment ;  the  trag- 
edy of  "  Cinna"  was  prohibited,  and  that  of  "  Andromaque" 
substituted. 

It  would  indeed  have  been  imprudent  to  repeat  before  a 
parterre,  still  perhaps  agitated  by  remains  of  the  turbulent 
passions  so  lately  vented,  such  a  line  as  this : 

"Le  pire  des  Estats  est  I'Etat  populaire  !" 
Neither  would  it  have  been  proper  to  offer  to  the  anti-Repub- 
lican party  such  allusions  as  these : 

"  Un  tas  d'hommes  perdus  de  dettes  et  de  crimes 
Que  pressent  de  mes  lois  les  ordres  legitimes 
Et  qui  desesperant  de  les  plus  eviter, 
Si  tout  n'est  renverse  nc  sauraient  subsister." 

This  was  not  the  first  time  lately  that  "  Cinna"  had  been 
deemed  too  plain  spoken.  The  following  lines  were,  indeed, 
well  calculated  to  set  the  volcanic  heads  of  the  pit  in  a  blaze: 

"Les  hoiineurs  sont  vendus  an  plus  ambitieux, 
Ces  petits  souverains  qu'il  fait  ])our  une  annee, 
"Voyant  d'uii  temps  si  court  leur  puissance  bornee, 
Des  plus  heureux  dcsseins  font  avorter  le  fruit 
De  peur  de  le  laisser  a  celui  qui  les  suit." 


206  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

The  press,  however,  did  not  fail  to  comment  upon  the  with- 
drawal of  this  tragedy,  and  to  take  note  of  and  quote  the  po- 
litical allusions  tliat  occasioned  its  proscription.  The  most 
anti-Kepublican  of  all  critics  exclaimed,  "To  this  pass  has  so 
much  liberty  reduced  us." 

On  the  22d  of  March  Mademoiselle  Rachel  appeared  in  a 
pretty  little  comedy,  in  one  act,  and  in  verse,  by  Monsieur 
Armand  Barthet.  "Le  Moineau  de  Lesbie"  can  not  be  said 
to  have  any  plot ;  it  derives  all  its  charm  from  the  light  grace 
and  beauty  of  its  details.  It  was  published  a  few  days  before 
the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolution  of  February,  1848 — a  sin- 
gular time  for  the  appearance  of  this  sweet  elegy  on  the  death 
of  a  sparrow  that  died  nineteen  hundred  years  before  it  was 
written !  This  souvenir  of  Rome's  far-distant  past,  evoked 
amid  the  convulsions  of  a  modern  crisis,  was  adopted  by 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  one  year  after  its  birth,  when  it  was 
first  put  upon  the  stage. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  Rome,  about  the  time  of  the  war  be- 
tween Caesar  and  Pompey.  The  poet  Catullus  is  about  to 
turn  Benedict ;  surrounded  by  many  friends,  he  makes  a  liba- 
tion to  the  gods  of  his  youth,  whom  he  renounces  to  marry 
Sexta.  While  the  gay  party,  under  the  influence  of  the  rich 
Falernian,  extol  the  pleasures  of  freedom  and  lament  the  ab- 
dication of  the  poet,  a  message  is  brought  from  the  bride-elect. 
Sexta  has  last  night  had  evil  dreams ;  alarmed,  she  has  hast- 
ened to  consult  the  augurs,  but  she  would  have  far  more 
faith  in  the  words  of  her  betrothed  than  in  their  promises. 
Will  he  come  to  her?  He  asks  but  the  time  to  go  to  the 
Latin  Gate  for  the  bridal  gift  that  has  been  ordered — dia- 
monds that  are  to  star  that  lovely  brow — he  will  be  with  her 
forthwith. 

During  the  temporary  absence  of  the  bridegroom,  his  fair 
friend,  the  companion  of  his  gayer  hours,  the  charming  Lesbia, 
ignorant  of  the  loss  that  threatens  her,  enters.  The  banquet- 
ers, dazzled  by  the  fair  apparition,  endeavor,  each  in  turn,  to 
succeed  to  her  recreant  lover,  and  each  is  in  turn  laughed  at 
and  dismissed.  The  narrative  of  the  death  of  the  sparrow 
gracefully  introduces  the  reconciliation  of  the  lovers. 

However  foreign  this  pi'etty  trifle  might  seem  to  Mademoi- 


Mt"?.IOIRS    OF    RACUFX.  207 

selle  Rachcrs  true  style,  hei-  personification  of  the  gentle  Lcs- 
bia  was  very  pleasing.  The  scene  in  which  Lcsbia  tries  on 
the  wedding  ornaments  of  the  future  bride  was  phiyed  with  a 
grace,  a  feminine  conception  of  tiiis  coquettish  part  that  was 
little  expected  from  the  representative  of  the  austere  muse  of 
tragedv. 

The  "  Moineau  de  Leshie"  was  first  played  for  the  benefit 
of  IMudcmoisolIe  Anais  on  the  boards  of  the  Italian  Opera 
House.  It  was  the  last  piece,  and  midnight  had  sounded 
when  it  was  begun.  Acted  before  an  audience  satiated  with 
the  preceding  entertainments,  worn  out  with  fatigue  and  half 
asleep,  it  had  very  nearly  proved  a  failure.  Brought  out  on 
the  following  Saturday  in  its  proper  sphere,  the  Theatre 
Frant^ais,  it  obtained  a  great  success. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  a  great  change 
was  introduced  in  the  manner  of  reciting  on  the  French  stage. 
The  authors  of  this  revolution  were  the  celebrated  Baron  and 
the  no  less  celebrated  Adrienne  Lecouvreur.  The  father  of 
the  latter  was  a  hatter,  who,  not  finding  his  trade  sutHciently 
lucrative  in  his  own  little  provincial  town,  came  up  to  Paris 
■with  liis  family  in  the  hope  of  bettering  his  circumstances. 
He  settled  near  the  The'utre  Fran(,ais,  then  situated  in  the 
Faubourg  St.  Germain.  This  proximity  afforded  Adrienne 
opportunities  for  indulging  her  theatricals,  and  developed  the 
inclination  she  had  manifested  from  early  childhood.  She 
soon  proved  that  "  where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way ;"  for 
in  1705,  when  hardly  fifteen  years  of  age,  she  persuaded  some 
young  companions  to  join  her  in  getting  up  no  less  a  tragedy 
than  '•  Polyeucte,"  followed  by  the  comedy  of  "  Lc  Deuil." 
The  rehearsals,  which  took  place  at  a  grocer  s  shop  in  the 
neighborhood,  were  honored  by  the  presence  of  several  persons 
of  distinction.  Astonished  at  the  extraordinary  talent  shown 
by  the  hatter's  daughter,  who  played  Pauline,  tlie  visitors  men- 
tioned her  with  enthusiasm  to  INIadame  la  Pre-sidente  Lejay, 
and  that  lady  built  a  little  theatre  in  the  court-yard  of  her 
own  hotel.  Rue  Garanciere,  for  the  juvenile  company.  The 
select  audience,  though  disposed  to  indulgence,  found  they  had 
little  need  of  any.  The  untutored  girl  delighted  ears  that 
were  accustomed  to  the  best  actors  of  the  day ;  her  intonation 


208  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

— correct,  pure,  and  true  to  nature — formed  a  striking  con- 
trast with  that  of  the  performers  then  in  vogue,  who  declaim- 
ed, bawled,  or  chanted,  but  never  spoke  their  parts.  The 
players  of  tlie  Comedie  Franr-ais,  getting  wind  of  the  favor 
shown  to  the  band  of  youthful  amateurs,  and  jealous  of  the 
privileges  of  their  own  house,  represented  the  case  to  D'Ar- 
genson,  the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  as  an  infringement  of  their 
rights.  An  exempt  and  his  man  were  dispatched  to  bring  the 
delinquents  before  the  dreaded  man  in  authority.  Adrienne 
and  her  accomplices  were  terrified  beyond  measure,  but  their 
protectress  interposed  between  them  and  the  lieutenant ;  a  few 
words  explained  all,  and  the  order  was  revoked  on  condition 
the  performances  should  be  discontinued.  But  the  courage  of 
the  little  people  was  not  cowed  ;  they  managed  to  get  the 
Grand  Prieur  interested  in  their  behalf,  and,  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  walls  of  the  Temple,  were  enabled  to  set  at 
naught  the  prohibition  of  the  police.  What  the  authority  of 
D'Argenson  had  failed  to  accomplish,  however,  was  effected 
by  the  spirit  of  discord.  After  two  or  three  performances, 
the  self-constituted  actors  quarreled  as  though  they  had  been 
regularly-organized  players  in  ordinary  to  his  majesty,  and 
the  company  was  broken  up. 

Mademoiselle  Lecouvreur  did  not,  as  is  often  the  case  with 
young  artists,  meet  with  any  opposition  to  her  vocation  in  her 
own  family.  Her  father  encouraged  and  cultivated  her  taste 
by  his  judicious  advice,  and  the  fame  of  her  precocious  talent 
soon  procured  her  offers  from  provincial  managers.  She  play- 
ed for  some  years  in  Strasburg,  and  the  chief  towns  of  Alsace 
and  Lorraine, 

Her  success  in  the  provinces  facilitated  her  admittance  on 
the  boards  of  the  The'atre  Frangais,  that  had  once  well-nigh 
put  an  end  to  her  theatrical  career,  and  she  made  her  debut 
there  in  the  month  of  May  in  the  year  1717,  in  the  character 
of  Electre.  The  sensation  she  created  was  very  gi'eat ;  she 
was  accounted  one  of  the  first  actresses  of  the  age,  and  rivaled 
Mademoiselle  Duclos,  who  for  twenty-four  years  had  been  the 
favorite  of  the  public. 

As  an  artiste,  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  left  a  name  for  talent 
of  the  highest  order ;  she  was  no  less  admired  for  her  charms 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  209 

of  person.  All  grace  in  her  manners,  her  carriage  was  so 
noble  and  dignified  that  it  was  said  of  her  that  she  was  a 
queen  among  the  players.  Simplicity  and  propriety,  correct- 
ness and  elegance,  characterized  her  style.  Her  voiee,  though 
not  of  great  compass,  possessed  an  infinite  variety  of  inflec- 
tions and  the  most  moving  tones.  Her  features  were  fine 
and  sufficiently  marked  to  express  strong  passions,  while  her 
eyes,  full  of  fire,  added  the  most  eloquent  commentary  to  what 
was  uttered  by  her  lips.  Her  figure,  though  slight,  and  not 
above  the  middle  height,  was  well  developed,  and  seemed  much 
taller  on  the  boards.  The  good  taste  and  richness  of  her  dress 
enhanced  the  gifts  of  Nature,  not  the  least  of  which  was  a 
gentle,  loving  heart,  a  ready  wit,  and,  what  is  far  more  valu- 
able, the  great  art  of  making  that  wit  a  source  of  pleasure 
instead  of  pain  to  her  friends. 

No  actress  better  understood  than  Mademoiselle  Lecouvreur 
the  ai't  of  listening.  Her  pantomime  was  so  expressive  that 
every  thing  the  actor  who  was  addi-essing  her  said  was  depict- 
ed on  her  countenance.  Her  quick  comprehension  taught  her 
instantly  the  road  to  the  heart ;  she  gave  power  and  meaning 
to  weak  and  insignificant  lines,  and  new  beauties  to  fine  ones. 
Consummate  in  the  art  of  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  part, 
she  felt  what  she  uttered,  and  communicated  her  sensations 
to  her  audience.  No  tragedienne  ever  drew  more  tears  or  in- 
spired such  terror. 

With  so  many  titles  to  favor,  it  can  not  be  wondered  that 
this  charmino;  woman  was  dear  to  all  who  knew  her.  With 
the  public  she  was  all  in  all — pit  and  boxes  agreed  in  idoliz- 
inof  her.  Nor  did  she,  like  modei'n  favorites,  take  advantajro 
of  this  passionate  fondness  to  show  herself  exacting,  cnpri- 
cious,  or  imperious.  She  proved  herself  worthy  of  an  affec- 
tion that  did  honor  to  both  sides,  by  the  most  scrupulous 
punctuality  in  the  discharge  of  her  professional  duties.  It  is 
recorded  of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  and  of  her  no  less  famous 
contemporary,  the  actor  Baron,  that,  always  ready  to  perform 
when  required,  they  never  had  recourse' to  the  hackneyed  pre- 
tense of  indisposition  to  obtain  an  exemption  from  duty.  They 
left  to  the  invention  of  their  successor,  the  talented  Lekain, 
the  convenient  fashion   of  going  every  year  to  reap  golden 


210  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

harvests  in  the  provinces  or  abroad,  v\-hile  they  were  paid  in 
tlie  capital. 

Anions  the  numerous  admirers  of  Mademoiselle  Lecouvreur, 
the  one  who  obtained  a  lasting  hold  en  her  affections  Avas  the 
famous  Count  Marshal  de  Saxe,  the  son  of  Augustus,  King  of 
Poland,  and  of  the  beautiful  Countess  of  Kbnigsmark,  as  hand- 
some as  his  mother,  and  as  brave  as  the  god  of  war.  When 
this  romantic  knight  was  planning  the  conquest  of  his  Duchy 
of  Courland,  notwithstanding  his  high  reputation  and  illustri- 
ous birth,  he  could  find  no  one  to  join  him  in  raising  funds 
for  his  adventurous  scheme :  his  own  purse  was  quite  inad- 
equate to  supply  the  demands  of  his  courage.  His  generous 
mistress  realized  by  the  sale  of  her  diamonds  the  sura  of  40,000 
livres — equal  then  to  three  times  that  amount  in  the  present 
day — and  compelled  him  to  accept  it.  Although  the  expedi- 
tion was  unsuccessful,  the  hero  of  it  was  not  the  less  the  lion 
of  the  aristocratic  circles  of  the  capital,  and  the  beauties  of  the 
court  employed  all  the  magic  of  their  seductions  to  draw  Iwm 
into  their  toils.  No  less  a  lady  than  the  Duchess  of  Bouillon 
is  said  to  have  been  at  last  successful  in  making  him  forget  the 
allegiance  he  owed  to  the  fair  Adrienne.  Stung  with  jealousy, 
the  actress  seized  the  only  means  of  revenge  in  her  power. 
One  night,  when  acting  Phcdre,  instead  of  addressing  to  her 
confidant  the  passage, 

"  Je  sais  mes  perfidies, 
Gi^none,  et  ne  suis  point  de  ces  femmes  hardies, 
Qui  poutant  dans  le  crime  une  tranquille  paix, 
Ont  su  se  faire  un  front  qui  ne  rougit  jamais," 

she  turned  to  the  conspicuous  box  where  her  rival  sat  in  all 
the  pomp  of  rank,  and  apostrophized  her  with  all  the  passion- 
ate scorn  and  indignation  she  knew  so  well  how  to  throw  into 
the  lines.  The  public,  who  understood  the  real  drama,  ap- 
plauded vehemently,  and  the  enraged  duchess  vowed  venge- 
ance. The  death  of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  though  arising 
from  natural  causes,  followed  this  little  scene  within  so  short 
a  time  that  the  tongue  of  malice  might  have  attempted  to 
show  a  strange  c  incidence  between  them.  But  the  nature  of 
the  illness  that  cut  short  the  career  of  this  celebrated  actress 
was  too  well  known  to  justify  such  conjectures,  and  it  was  left 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  211 

to  the  unscrupulous  pens  of  dramatists  and  novelists  tlius 
wantonly  to  charge  the  memory  of  the  high-born  and  beauti- 
ful with  so  odious  a  crime. 

On  the  2od  of  October,  1730,  the  English  stage  lost  one  of 
its  briglitcst  ornaments  in  the  person  of  3Irs.  Oldfield.  The 
body,  after  lying  several  days  in  the  Jerusalem  chamber  at 
Westminster,  was  borne  in  great  pomp  to  the  Abbey,  where 
it  was  interred  among  England's  higli-born  and  high-lionored, 
Tlie  pall-bearers  were  Lords  Delaware  an.d  Ilarvcy,  Messrs. 
Dorrington,  Hodges,  and  Gary,  and  Captain  Elliot.  The  fu- 
neral service  was  performed  by  Doctor  Barker.  ^ 

On  the  17th  of  March  of  the  same  year,  Adrienne  Lecou- 
vreur,  the  beloved  of  the  French  public,  died^  and  was,  perhaps, 
still  more  regretted  than  her  Englisli  contemporary.  Her  ill- 
ness having  been  too  short  to  permit  of  a  reconciliation  with 
the  Church,  an  intolerant  curate  refused  to  permit  of  her  be- 
ing interred  in  consecrated  ground,  although  she  had  left  1000 
francs  to  the  Church  of  St.  Sulpice.  The  body  of  the  lovely 
and  talented  creature,  immortalized  by  the  pen  of  Voltaire, 
was  carried  in  a  hacknej'-conch,  in  the  dead  of  the  niglit,  to 
the  corner  of  the  Kue  de  Bourgogne,  then  a  marsh,  and  there 
buried  ! 

Such  a  hero  and  such  a  heroine,  surrounded  in  their  differ- 
ent spheres  with  so  bright  a  halo  of  love,  glory,  and  fame, 
could  not  fail  to  tempt  the  pens  of  dramatic  authors;  but  the 
only  successful  attempt  has  been  that  of  Me.^^srs.  Scribe  and 
Legouve'.  The  part  of  Adrienne  was  offered  to  Mademoiselle 
Rachel,  but  afraid,  perhaps,  of  the  transition  from  the  daring 
crimes  and  undisguised  passions  of  the  Greek  and  Eoman  per- 
sonages to  the  clandestine  midnirrht  intrigues  of  the  modern 
drama,  of  the  change  from  the  grand  Alexandrines  of  the  clas- 
sic poets  to  the  prose  of  every-day  life,  she  refused  to  under- 
take it,  though  she  had  accepted  it  at  first.  INI.  Scribe  then 
gave  the  part  to  ^lademoiselle  Rose  Cheri,  and  it  was  not  un- 
til six  months  after  that  the  play  having  been  read  anew  at 
the  Theatre  Franrais,  Mademoiselle  Rachel  accepted  it,  and 
it  was  brought  out  on  the  14th  of  April  of  this  year. 

Having  given  a  slight  biographical  sketch  of  Adi-ienne  Le- 
couvreur,  it  remains  to  be  seen  what  romance  has  added  to 
reality  't  the  drama. 


212  MEMOIRS    OK    RAeilEL. 

The  first  act  passes  in  the  apartment  of  the  Princess  de 
Bouillon,  who  is  entertained  while  at  her  toilet  with  the  gos- 
sip of  the  day  brought  to  kvce  by  a  petit  abbe.  The  rivalry 
between  the  two  great  actresses,  ]Mademoiselle  Lecouvreur  and 
jMademoiselle  Duclos,  the  patronage  of  the  latter  by  the  prin- 
cess herself,  much,  as  the  abbe  remarks,  to  the  surprise  of  the 
Avoi-ld  of  fashion,  to  whom  the  intimacy  of  the  prince  with 
Mademoiselle  Duclos,  his  gifts  of  diamonds,  a  petite  maison, 
&c.,  ai'e  well  known — all  these  items  are  communicated  to  the 
high-born  lady,  who  replies  that  all  this  is  old  news,  and  that, 
to  have  a  better  hold  on  her  faithless  spouse,  she  has  out-gen- 
eraled  him,  won  over  his  mistress  to  her  own  interests,  and  is 
now  informed  of  his  doings  before  he  himself  knows  his  own 
intentions. 

Other  visitors  enter,  the  ^«7nce  also.  The  conversation  is 
still  of  Mademoiselle  Lecouvreur,  who  is  to  come  and  recite  a 
few  scenes  at  a  soiree  of  the  jyrincess  ;  the  arrival  of  the  Count 
de  Saxe,  his  braveiy,  his  exploits,  his  failure  in  his  expedition, 
«fec.,  are  also  subjects  of  discussion,  when  the  hero  himself 
enters,  and  is  finally  left  alone  with  the  hostess. 

In  the  drama  it  is  to  iho,  2)rincess  that  the  count  is  faithless. 
Hers  were  the  chains  that  bound  him  previous  to  his  leaving 
Paris  on  his  last  expedition.  Madame  de  J3oiiillo?i  is  now  tor- 
mented by  those  vague  and  apparently  groundless  suspicions 
that  warn  a  woman  that  she  has  a  rival.  Why  must  she  be 
left  to  learn  of  a  stranger  his  arrival  ?  Indeed,  this  has  been, 
•with  the  exception  of  one  to  the  secretary  of  state  and  the 
cardinal  minister,  the  very  first  visit  he  has  made.  He  only 
aiTived  last  night.  Ah !  was  it  the  cardinal  or  the  secretary 
of  state  Avho  presented  him  with  that  exquisite  bouquet  in  his 
button-hole?  Oh  dear,  he  had  quite  forgotten  :  a  little  flower- 
girl  at  the  door  of  the  hotel  teased  him  to  buy  it  of  her,  and — 
*  *  *  *  "  And  you  kindly  did  so  to  present  it  to  me,"  inter- 
rupted the  subtle  lady,  possessing  herself  of  the  flowers,  which 
the  count  dares  not  refuse. 

The  instinct  oi  Madame  de  Bouillon  has  not  deceived  her. 
When  he  was  last  in  Paris,  the  noble  adventurer  had  saved 
from  the  insults  of  several  gallants  flushed  with  wine  the  fair 
Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  on   her   way   home   from   the  theatre. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  213 

Since  then  an  intimacy  had  sprung  up  between  the  protegee 
and  him  whom  she  deems  a  poor  officer  of  fortune,  serving  un- 
der t!)c  orders  of  the  Count  de  Saxe.    The  first  visit  was  to  her. 

The  princess  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  steps  she  has  taken  in 
his  behalf  to  obtain  the  troops  he  wishes  to  levy ;  the  obsta- 
cles she  has  met  with  in  high  quarters,  the  measures  she  is 
intending  to  pursue,  &c.,  &c.  The  count,  however,  can  not 
in  honor  permit  of  her  serving  him  with  her  influence  and 
credit  at  court  under  the  idea  that  he  loves  her.  He  can  not 
accept  her  devotion  under  false  pretenses;  he  is  on  the  point 
of  undeceiving  her,  when  the  re-entrance  of  the  jorince  and 
abbe  prevent  the  confession,  and  he  is  obliged  to  bid  her  adieu, 
leaving  the  flowers  in  her  hands. 

The  second  act  passes  in  the  green-room  of  the  Comedie 
Fx-an^ais.  The  actors  are  chatting  with  lords  of  the  court 
until  their  turn  comes  to  go  on  the  stage.  Adrienne  is  to  plav 
Eoxane ;  her  professional  rival,  Mademoiselle  Duclos,  plays  in 
the  same  tragedy;  but  it  is  not  the  wish  to  excel  her  only 
that  animates  Adrienne.  Maurice — she  only  knows  him  by 
that  name — Maurice  is  in  a  box  to  the  right :  for  him  she 
must  appear  to  advantage;  for  him  she  must  Avin  applause, 
must  be  admired. 

In  the  mean  Avhile,  Monsieur  de  Bouillon  has  doubts  of  the 
fidelity  of  his  mistress ;  her  maid  has  communicated  to  him  a 
note,  written  by  Mademoiselle  Duclos  to  the  Count  de  Saxe, 
appointing  a  meeting  after  the  performance  in  the  petite 
maison  the  prince's  munificence  has  lately  given  her.  The 
enraged  prince  thereupon  invites  all  the  actors  and  actresses 
to  a  supper  that  very  night  in  the  jjetiie  maison,  where  he  will 
'surprise  and  shame  his  faithless  mistress.  Adrienne  is  invited, 
and,  knowing  nothing  of  all  these  intrigues,  accepts,  because 
she  is  told  the  Cou7it  de  Saxe  will  be  there — the  coimt,  whom 
she  is  anxious  to  know,  that  she  may  have  an  opportunity  of 
soliciting  of  him  the  advancement  of  a  poor  lieutenant  in  his 
service. 

The  third  act  passes  in  the  petite  maison.  The  lady  who 
meets  the  count  there  is  Madame  de  Bouillon  herself,  who  has 
borrowed  the  house  o^  Mademoiselle  Duclos,  ^n^  commissioned 
her  to  make  the  appointment. 


214  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

Here  we  have  the  proud,  the  high-born  Princess  de  Bouillon, 
clesceiided  from  a  King  of  Poland,  closely  related  to  the  royal- 
ty of  France,  not  only  acting  like  a  courtesan,  but  like  the 
veriest  idiot  !  To  avoid  compromising  her  reputation,  she 
admits  into  her  confidence  an  actress  known  for  the  lightness 
of  her  conduct,  the  mistress  of  her  own  husband;  she  makes 
this  woman  her  emissary,  her  secretary  ;  she  intrusts  her  with 
a  secret  that  involves  her  honor — she  borrows  of  her,  to  carry 
on  an  intrigue,  the  petite  maison  her  own  husband  has  fur- 
nished, and  of  which  he  has  a  key !  Of  all  the  contrivances 
imagined  by  dramatists — and  they  are  privileged  to  invent 
absurdities — this  is  the  most  improbable,  the  most  monstrous. 

The  conversation  between  the  princess  and  the  count  is,  at 
first,  of  the  obstacles  his  enemies  throw  in  the  way  of  his 
political  and  military  schemes.  The  chief  source  of  anxiety 
is  an  unfortunate  note  for  60,000  livres,  to  which  is  appended 
the  signatui'e  of  the  improvident  warrior.  This  note  is  in  the 
hands  of  a  Swedish  nobleman,  of  whom  the  embassador  of 
Russia  is  endeavoring  to  purchase  it,  in  order  to  impi'ison  the 
count,  and  thus  put  a  stop  to  his  conquest  of  Courland.  The 
princess  has  power  and  credit  at  court,  but  she  laments  that 
she  has  not  60,000  livres  to  assist  him  with.  The  expla- 
nation that  was  to  have  been  made  in  the  morning  is  given 
now,  but  in  the  very  moment  when  the  angry  lady  insists  on 
knowing  who  is  her  rival,  the  voices  of  the  p?7»ce  and  his 
merry  guests  are  heard  in  the  garden.  The  lady  takes  refuge 
in  an  adjoining  room,  yet  not  so  quickly  but  what  the  husband 
catches  a  glimpse  of  a  woman's  di-ess  as  he  enters  through  one 
door  and  she  goes  out  at  another.  Convinced  that  it  is  Mad- 
emoiselle Dados,  and  that  he  has  it  now  in  his  power  to  morti-  ' 
fy  and  expose  her,  he  orders  the  doors  of  the  house  to  be  fast- 
ened, and  forbids  any  one  being  let  out  before  daylight.  The 
situation  is  critical,  and  the  princess  is  inevitably  lost  but  for 
Adrienne,  to  whom,  as  she  refused  to  come  with  him,  the 
prince  had  given  a  second  key  to  let  herself  in  after  the  per- 
formance was  over.,  Adrienne  recognizes  in  the  Count  de  Saxe 
the  officer  of  fortune  in  whose  favor  she  had  come  to  solicit 
him.  On  his  whispered  assurance  that  the  lady  in  the  next 
room,  on  whom  the  party  make  such  indiscreet  comments,  is 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  21.5 

not  Madevioiselle  Duclos,  nor  any  one  in  whom  he  has  any 
interest,  saving  that  honor  commands  him  to  see  her  safe  out 
of  tlie  house  and  prevent  licr  being  recognized  l)y  any  one,  the 
generous  actress  takes  the  opportunity,  when  the  company  are 
in  another  room,  to  put  out  the  hghts  and  release  the  prisoner 
by  means  of  the  garden  key.  There  is  here  an  interesting 
scene  in  the  dark — the  rivals,  especially  the  p7-incess,  endeavor 
in  vain  to  recognize  each  other.  Madame  de  Bouillon,  in  her 
precipitate  exit,  drops  a  diamond  bracelet  given  to  her  by  her 
husband  that  very  morning. 

In  the  fourth  act,  the  princess,  a  prey  to  jealous  rage,  for 
she  has  had  from  the  count  himself  the  confession  that  he 
loves  another,  whereas  to  Adrienne  his  conduct  has  only  been 
open  to  suspicion,  the  princess  makes  no  display  of  magna- 
nimity ;  she  leaves  her  recreant  lover  to  his  fate,  which,  in  the 
prosaic  form  of  bailiffs,  throws  him  into  prison.  Here  at  least 
he  is  separated  from  her  unknown  rival,  and  has  ample  time 
to  reflect  on  the  advantages  he  has  disdained.  In  the  mean 
while  she  endeavors  to  discover  who  that  rival  is.  She  has 
but  one  clew  to  guide  her,  the  voice.  She  studies  attentively 
that  of  every  woman  who  can  have  had  the  slightest  chance 
of  pleasing  the  count,  to  catch  the  sound  she  heard  that  night, 
but  in  vain,  until,  at  the  soiree  announced  in  the  first  act,  she 
recognizes  it.  The  scene  that  follows  when  the  hostess,  thrown 
off  her  guard  by  the  discover}^,  betrays  herself  to  Adrienne  in 
her  attempt  to  mortify  her  before  her  guests,  is  the  chief  one 
in  the  drama.  The  scorn  reciprocated  by  the  actress ;  the 
bracelet,  of  which  she  tells  the  story  without  mentioning 
name?,  but  which  the  prince,  not  aware  of  what  has  passed, 
coming  in,  recognizes  as  Ids  gift  to  his  icife ;  the  passage  from 
"  Phcdre,"  spoken  by  Adrienne,  and  addressed  to  her  rival, 
whom  she  stamps  with  infamy ;  the  entrance  of  the  count, 
whom  all  think  in  prison,  but  who  has  been  secretly  liberated 
hj  Adrienne  ;  his  gratitude  to  the  ^)?-»ic't'6\<;,  who  he  believes  has 
paid  his  debts — all  these  coups  de  theatre  constitute  a  scene  of 
tJu-illing  interest.  The  rage  with  which  the  rivals,  in  inso- 
lently courteous  phrases,  tear  each  other's  heart-strings,  and 
the  despair  o^  Adrienne,  who,  notwithstanding  her  momentary 
triumph,  sees  Maurice  attentive  to  the  princess,  and  mistakes 


216  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

the  gratitude  he  is  expressing  for  protestations  of  love,  close 
this  act. 

In  the  fifth  act,  3Iaurice,  having  ascertained  that  it  was  to 
Adrienne  that  he  has  been  indebted  for  his  liberty — that  she 
has  sold  her  diamonds  to  rescue  him  whom  she  believed  faith- 
less, Maurice,  filled  with  love  and  gratitude,  hastens  to  offer 
her  all  he  has  in  his  power,  his  name  and  the  prospective 
Duchy  of  Courland.  It  is  too  late ;  the  jealousy  of  the  of- 
fended woman  has  outstripped  his  love ;  Adrieniie  is  dying. 
She  had  received  a  casket  sent  in  her  lover's  name,  contain- 
ing the  bouquet  of  the  first  act :  it  had  been  poisoned  by  the 
princess.     The  agony  and  death  of  the  heroine  fill  the  last  act. 

Aside  from  the  numerous  improbabilities  of  this  drama,  it 
can  not  be  denied  that  the  interest  is  kept  up  unceasingly, 
that  the  situations  are  exceedingly  dramatic,  and  the  chai'ac- 
ters  well  drawn.  That  of  Michonnet,  the  old  stage-manager, 
is  most  excellent. 

It  has  been  said  that  this  was  the  first  time  that  Mademoi- 
selle Eachel  was  called  upon  to  utter  prose  on  the  stage.  There 
was  another  far  more  serious  objection  to  the  part — one  which, 
certes,  the  authors  had  not  thought  of,  and  which  it  was  left 
to  the  genius  of  Mademoiselle  Kachel  to  discover.  In  accord- 
ance with  the  fashions  of  her  day,  Adrienne' s  hair  is  powder- 
ed ! — Hermione's  Greek  brow  crowned  with  powdered  tresses  ! 
—  Camille's  Eoman  locks  sprinkled  with  flour! — Melpomene  in 
a  wig !  The  thing  Avas  not  to  be  thought  of:  heedless  of  the 
anachronism  the  head  presented,  heedless  of  the  unpleasant 
contrast  the  black  hair  of  Adrienne  made  with  the  powdered 
puffs  and  curls  of  the  other  dramatis  personce,  destroying  much 
of  the  illusion,  Rachel  had  her  will.  She  subsequently  saw 
the  absurdity  of  the  thing,  and  conformed  to  the  customs  of 
that  age. 

Notwithstanding  this  and  other  disadvantages,  and  though 
she  was  far  from  equaling  in  it  the  triumphs  she  achieved  in 
her  own  classic  repertoire,  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  performance 
of  this  charming  character  was  very  pleasing.  Whatever  may 
be  thouglit  to  the  contrary,  it  is  no  easy  task  for  an  actress 
to  take  upon  her  the  imitation  of  her  own  position.  To  mimic 
one's  self  is  almost  impossible.     What  is  unconsciously  done 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  217 

with  ease  becomes  difficult  the  moment  it  is  a  part  to  be  studi- 
ed, and  the  actress  runs  the  risk  of  setting  it  on  stilts,  or 
lowering  it  to  something  too  familiar  and  bordering  on  vul- 
garity. The  real  history  of  Adrienne  Lecou\Teur  has  shown 
that  she  was  one  of  those  privileged  beings  who  unite  the  qual- 
ities that  constitute  the  happiness  of  private  life  with  the  brill- 
iant ones  that  secure  fame  and  honor  in  a  public  one.  As 
witnesses  to  her  charming  disposition  we  have  her  own  letters, 
evidently  written  without  study  or  disguise.  Such  passages 
as  the  following  paint  the  woman  better  than  the  pens  of  biog- 
raphers could  ever  hope. 

"Mays,  1728. 
"You  know  how  dissipated  life  is  in  Paris,  and  what  are 
the  duties  inseparable  to  my  profession.  I  spend  my  days  do- 
ing nine  tenths  of  the  things  that  are  displeasing  to  me,  in 
making  new  acquaintances  I  can  not  avoid  so  long  as  I  am  in 
my  present  position,  and  which  prevent  my  cultivating  the 
old,  or  employing  my  time  to  my  own  taste  otherwise  at  home. 
It  is  the  fashion  to  dine  or  sup  with  me,  because  some  duch- 
esses have  thus  honored  me.  These  ai'e  persons  whose  good- 
ness and  charms  would  amply  satisfy  me,  but  whose  society  I 
can  not  enjoy  as  I  would,  because  my  time  belongs  to  the  pub- 
lic, and  I  must  gratify  all  who  would  know  me,  or  be  set 
down  as  impertinent.  For  all  I  am  so  careful,  my  health, 
which  is  weak,  causes  me  to  offend ;  if  I  am  obliged  to  refuse 
or  fail  to  attend  an  invitation  to  a  party  from  ladies  I  have 
never  seen,  or  who  care  to  see  me  merely  from  curiosity,  or, 
if  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  so,  because  I  am  the  fashion : 
'Truly,' says  one,  'what  airs  she  gives  herself!'  Another 
adds :  '  She  acts  thus  because  we  are  not  titled.'  If  I  am  se- 
rious, for  one  can  not  be  very  gay  among  people  one  does  not 
know :  '  Is  this  the  woman  who  has  so  much  wit  ?'  remarks 
some  one  of  the  company.  '  Do  you  not  see  she  scorns  us  V 
says  another,  '  and  that  one  must  know  Greek  to  please  her ! 
She  goes  to  Madame  Lambert's.'  I  know  not  why  I  tell  you 
these  trifles.  I  have  many  other  matters  to  speak  of,  but  I 
happen  at  this  moment  to  be  troubled  with  a  deal  of  such  gos- 
sips, and  am  more  than  ever  possessed  with  the  wish  to  be 
free,  and  have  no  other  study  than  to  please  those  who  feel  real 

K 


218  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL. 

kindness  for  me,  and  who  satisfy  my  heart  and  mind.  ?.ry 
vanity  finds  no  compensation  in  a  crowd  for  the  lack  of  real 
merit.  I  do  not  care  to  shine ;  I  find  ten  times  more  pleasure 
in  saying  nothing  and  in  hearing  good  things,  in  being  in  the 
gentle  company  of  worthy,  virtuous  people,  than  I  do  in  being 
made  giddy  with  all  the  insipid  praises  prodigally  and  at  ran- 
dom bestowed  on  me.  It  is  not  that  I  lack  gratitude  or  the 
wish  to  please ;  but  to  my  mind  the  approbation  of  fools  is 
only  flattering  inasmuch  as  it  is  general,  and  it  becomes  a 
burden  when  it  must  be  purchased  by  reiterated  and  especial 
sacrifices." 

The  above  is  extracted  from  a  collection  of  letters  of  Made- 
moiselle Lecouvreur  which  was  published  after  her  death.  In 
order  to  undertake  the  character  of  this  remarkable  woman, 
on  her  own  stage  too,  though  at  the  distance  of  a  century,  it 
was  requisite  that  her  representative  should  possess  no  small 
share  of  the  qualities  that  adorned  her  prototype.  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel  had  one  great  qualification  for  the  part — she 
could  play  the  gentlewoman  Avith  perfect  ease.  This  was  in- 
dispensable to  justify  the  remark  of  Michonnet,  when  Adrienne 
is  surrounded  by  ladies  of  the  highest  quality,  "  She  figures  as 
well  as  the  whole  of  them  in  a  salon." 

In  the  scenes  with  the  princess  Mademoiselle  Eachel  was  in 
her  element,  and  consequently  very  much  admired. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

1849. 


Benefit  of  Mademoiselle  Georges. — The  Tliespian  Car  in  1650  and  in 
1849. — rhedre  without  Aricie. — An  Audience  beliind  the  Age. — A 
Tune  to  suit  all  Governments. — Life  in  a  Stage-coach. — A  promised 
Conversion. — A  Play  without  an  Audience. — The  Theatre  Fran^ais 
versus  Mademoiselle  Rachel. — Mademoiselle  Rachel  condemned  to  sing 
the  "Marseillaise." 

In  June  of  this  year,  the  incident  to  which  allusion  was 
made  in  the  last  chapter  in  connection  with  Mademoiselle 
Georges  occurred.     This  once-petted  and  idolized  actress  made 


MEMOIBS   OF   KACHEL.  219 

an  appeal  to  old  friends  who  wei-e  willing  to  honor  the  memo- 
ries of  the  past,  and  to  the  children  of  a  later  generation  Avho 
might  be  curious  to  see  once  more  what  their  fathers  had  ap- 
plauded to  the  echo.  To  stimulate  the  indiflerence  of  a  pub- 
lic too  busy  yet  with  political  broils  to  care  for  theatricals, 
Mademoiselle  Georges  had  solicited  the  aid  of  Madame  Viar- 
dot  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  the  present  favorites  of  the  few 
who  still  had  time  and  inclination  for  arts  and  artists.  Mad- 
ame Yiardot  had  responded  to  the  call  Avith  the  good  grace 
and  willing  zeal  of  an  artist  who  understands  and  sympathizes 
with  griefs  that  decent  pride  would  fain  conceal  from  the 
world's  eye.  Mademoiselle  Eachel  was  not  so  readily  in- 
duced to  come  forward  on  this  occasion  offered  to  her  of  doin"- 
a  praiseworthy  action,  but  she  finally  consented  to  perform 
Eriphile  in  "Iphigenie."  The  henljiciare  had,  of  course,  un- 
dertaken Clytemnestra,  the  mother  who  so  resolutely  defends 
her  child — defends  her  even  against  the  father  who  consents 
to  her  death,  against  the  priest  who  exacts  it. 

The  actress  who  had  so  much  at  stake ;  who  felt  herself, 
moreover,  sustained  and  encouraged  by  the  interest  with  which 
an  attentive  audience  followed  her  words,  summoned  all  her 
energy,  her  remaining  courage  and  passion,  her  wavei'ing  pow- 
ers for  one  last  superhuman  effort ;  she  put  forth  all  li^r 
strength,  and  success  was  the  reward.  The  traces  that  time 
and  illness  had  worn  on  those  finely-chiseled  features  moment- 
arily vanished ;  a  faint  reflection  of  the  halo  of  youth  and 
beauty,  that  ever  shone  over  them  when  the  first  empire  and 
she  were  in  their  apogee  of  splendor,  returned  to  illumine  her 
decline  ;  the  sun  of  by -gone  days  regilded  the  noble  ruins.  The 
real  monarch  whose  power  seemed  to  defy  fortune  was  fallen 
long  ago — his  imperishable  name  was  embalmed  in  the  eternal 
pages  of  history.  The  mock-queen  had  outlived  her  opulence, 
her  fame,  her  worshipers,  to  find  herself  compelled  in  her  age 
to  appeal  to  a  public  in  whom  no  vestige  of  enthusiasm  for 
art  seemed  to  survive. 

The  announcement  of  two  such  names  —  Mademoiselle 
Georges  and  Mademoiselle  Eachel — in  the  same  play  would, 
in  other  times,  have  drawn  crowded  houses.  It  barely  sufliced 
to  attract  sufiicient  spectators  to  fill  the  salle  of  the  Italian 


220  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

Opera  House.  A  feuilletonist  of  the  day  remarked  very  truly 
that  the  stage  was  dead.  "We  have  made,"  said  he,  "so 
much  progress  within  the  last  eighteen  months,  in  good  sense, 
in  fine  arts,  and  in  liberty,  that  not  one  of  the  fine  arts  in  this 
great  nation  has  been  left  standing.  Poetry  is  dead,  painting 
and  sculpture  have  carried  abroad  the  noble  works  that  main- 
tained them.  Howling,  clamor,  and  insult  have  usurped  the 
place  of  eloquence.  Not  a  book,  not  a  poet,  not  a  painting — 
nothing  in  the  past,  nothing  in  the  future!" 

Even  this  audience,  got  together  with  so  much  difficulty, 
could  not  but  do  justice  to  the  talent  brought  before  them  that 
night.  As  for  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  she  lost  here  an  oppor- 
tunity of  doing  a  kind  and  amiable  thing.  Had  she  presented 
to  her  elder  sister  one  of  the  numerous  bouquets,  or  placed  on 
her  head  one  of  the  wreaths  showered  on  the  stage,  thunders 
of  applause  would  have  followed  the  gi'aceful  act.  But  no, 
the  demons  of  envy  and  jealousy  seemed  to  possess  her.  An- 
gered by  the  approbation  bestowed  on  Mademoiselle  Georges, 
she  sullenly  refused  to  play  in  the  "  Moineau  de  Lesbie,"  an- 
nounced on  the  bills  for  the  second  piece,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing the  injury  she  was  doing  the  hhiejiciare,  and  the  pain  she 
caused  the  young  author,  obstinately  persevered  in  her  refusal. 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  thought  to  punish  the  public  for  having 
dared  to  applaud  another  than  herself.  Madame  Viardot, 
however,  having  cheerfully  come  forward  to  offer  her  services 
to  make  up  the  deficiency  caused  by  the  tragedienne^  ill-tem- 
pered refusal,  her  delightful  voice  proved  an  ample  compensa- 
tion. 

The  months  of  June,  July,  and  August  were,  as  usual,  de- 
voted to  her  profitable  vacation.  While  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
hardly  deigned  to  play  twice  a  week  in  Paris,  where  she  had 
a  fixed  salary,  she  was  indefatigable  in  her  vacations,  when 
the  more  she  played  the  more  she  earned.  It  is  astonishing 
what  an  amount  of  fatigue  the  love  of  gain  enabled  this  frail 
constitution  to  bear.  She  recoiled  before  no  distance,  no  labor. 
As  long  as  any  thing  was  to  be  got  her  nerves  seemed  steeled. 
The  itinerary  of  one  of  these  tours,  as  furnished  by  herself  in 
a  letter  to  Mr.  Veron,  and  published  by  him  in  the  fourth 
volume  of  his  "  Memoires  d'un  Bourgeois  de  Paris,"  we  find 


MEMOIRS   OP   RACHEL.  221 

confirmed  in  every  particular.     As  it  alludes  to  the  conge  of 
this  year,  we  subjoin  it.     It  is  dated  May  2Gth,  1849. 

Orleans 29th,  31st  May. 

Tours 1st,  2d  June. 

Poitiers 3d,  4th  " 

Niorl 5th  " 

La  Rochellcs Gth,  8th  " 

Rochefort 7th,  9th  " 

Saintes 10th,  12th  " 

Cognac 11th,  13th  " 

Angoul&me 14th,  15th,  17th,  18th        " 

Perigneux 19th,  20th  " 

Libourne 22d,  23d  " 

Mont  de  Marsan 25th  " 

Bayonne 26th,  27th,  29th,  30th        " 

Pail 1st,  2d  July. 

Tarles 3d,  4th  " 

Bagnei'cs 5th  " 

Aiich 7th,  8th  " 

Toulouse....' 10th,  11th,  13th,  14th        " 

Narbonne 16th  " 

Pcrpignan 17th,  18th,  20th,  21st        " 

Carcassonne 23d,  24th  " 

Cahors 26th,  27th  " 

AiiriHac 29th,  30th  " 

Clermont 1st,  2d  August. 

Moulins 3d,  4th  " 

Nevers 5th  " 

Bourges Gth  " 

Blois 8th,  9th  " 

Lc  Mans 10th,  11th  " 

Laval 12th  " 

Rennes 13th,  14th  " 

S.t.  Malo 15th  " 

Jersey 17th,  19th,  21st                     " 

Caen 18th,  20th  " 

Guernsey 25th,  26th,  28th,  29th,  31st  " 

To  the  above  performances  may  "be  added  those  given  in 
Bordeaux,  Lebourne,  and  other  places  not  mentioned  in  Mad- 
emoiselle Kachel's  letter,  as  she  had  not  yet  signed  the  agree- 
ment at  the  time  it  was  written.  Altogether  they  number 
eighty-five  in  ninety  successive  days.  To  form  some  idea  of 
the  fatiguing  nature  of  this  departmental  tour,  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  not  one  mile  of  it  was  traveled  by  rail. 


222  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

An  old-fashioned,  lumbering  French  stage-coach,  comprising 
the  usual  divisions  of  coupe,  intcrieur,  rotonde,  imperial,  cabrio- 
let, and  bache,  was  the  vehicle  provided  for  the  whole  journey. 
In  the  coupe,  which-  was  especially  appropriated  to  the  chief- 
tainess,  a  bed  was  placed,  in  order  to  facilitate  as  much  repose 
as  was  consistent  with  a  life  of  perpetual  motion ;  at  night 
spread  out  for  a  couch,  in  the  day  it  was  rolled  up  for  a  sofa. 
The  princesses,  maids  of  honor,  and  damsels  of  her  suite  oc- 
cupied the  interieur,  and  disputed  the  corner  seats.  The  em- 
perors, kings,  and  lords  of  high  degree  had  the  rotonde;  the 
imjierial  was  assigned  to  the  confidants  and  other  small  fry, 
who,  though  not  in  very  enviable  seats  so  far  as  regarded 
sleep,  had  a  fine  view  of  the  country  from  their  elevated  posi- 
tion. Under  the  bache  were  stowed  away  the  trunks,  boxes, 
packages,  and  bundles  containing  the  wardrobe  and  stage 
paraphernalia:  Eoxane's  dagger,  CleopatrcCs  worm,  Adrienne^s 
fatal  bouquet,  and  JuditJis  sabre  ;  regal  mantles  and  poisoned 
cups,  crown  jewels  and  bag  wigs.  / 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  not  perhaps  herself  aware  that 
she  was  taking  art  back  to  its  primitive  origin,  and  that  her 
dramatic  diligence  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  an  imitation 
of  the  tragic  car  of  Thespis.  With  all  due  allowance  for  the 
difference  of  times  and  the  progress  of  the  present  age,  her 
caravan  recalls  that  of  which  Scarron  gives  so  amusing  a  de- 
scription in  his  "  Eoman  Comique." 

In  consequence  of  one  of  the  little  differences  of  opinion  that 
sometimes  disturbed  the  concord  of  the  Felix  family,  Made- 
moiselle Rachel  not  always  being  inclined  to  place  implicit 
reliance  in  her  brother's  arithmetical  conclusions,  jn  lieu  of 
Raphael,  the  usual  nominal  manager,  a  M.  Prot  filled  that 
office  on  the  present  occasion. 

While  the  tragedienne  herself  endured  without  a  murmur 
this  continual  locomotion,  no  other  member  of  the  company 
was  permitted  to  allege  fatigue  as  an  excuse  for  non-perform- 
ance of  duty — even  indisposition  could  not,  unless  very  sevei-e, 
be  pleaded  to  obtain  exemption.  It  was  said — we  will  not 
vouch  for  the  truth  of  the  report — that  on  tliis  or  some  other 
occasion,  one  of  the  actors  who  had  had  leeches  prescribed  for 
some  temporary  ailing,  was  obliged  to  apply  them  in  the 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  223 

coach,  having  been  refused  pei'raission  to  stay  behind,  even 
for  a  da}'. 

At  Bouvges,  Mademoiselle  Durey  fell  so  severely  ill  while 
playing  Aricie  that  Mademoiselle  Kachel's  own  maid,  Rose, 
was  deputed  to  take  the  invalid  back  to  Blois  in  the  privileged 
coupe.  Without  an  Aricie  even  Phtdre  was  incomplete ;  at 
least  such  was  the  opinion  of  the  spectators,  who  demanded 
their  money's  worth.  To  satisfy  a  provincial  audience,  al- 
ways behind-hand  with  the  Paris  fashions,  }et  who  imagined 
they  were  closely  imitating  the  follies  of  the  capital  in  exact- 
ing it  as  a  compensation  for  the  missing  bride  of  Ilippolyte^ 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  obliged  to  perform  the  now  obsolete 
"  Marsellaise."  This  complaisance  on  compulsion  was  ex- 
ceedingly distasteful  to  the  politic  but  no  longer  political  tra- 
gedienne.  Opinion  had  completely  changed  color  in  Paris, 
and  she  was  not  inclined  to  have  it  reported  there  that  she 
was  still  keeping  up  in  the  Departments  this  hackneyed  tragi- 
comic farce.  She  would  fain  have  imitated  the  wisdom  of  a 
certain  organ-grinder.  A  passer-by,  struck  by  the  more  than 
ordinary  discordance  of  the  instrument,  which  was  playing  the 
most  incomprehensible,  irrecognizable  jingle,  in  which,  how- 
ever, some  faint  reminiscence  of  the  "  Marseillaise"  might  now 
and  then  be  distinguished,  inquired  of  the  proprietor  what 
might  be  that  tune.  "  Why,  sir,  look  ye,  between  ourselves, 
its  an  old  'un  of  the  year  184:8,  and  seeing  as  how  it  wa'n't 
the  fashion  nowadays,  I  just  took  and  shifted  about  the  wires 
a  bit,  and  so  made  up  a  new  tune  as  'ull  suit  any  govern- 
ment." 

M.  Hip.  Guichard  was  the  next  that  gave  way  to  fatigue. 
Rachel  was  almost  the  only  one  that  resisted  to  the  last. 

A  jeune  premiere  was'  sent  for  to  Paris,  but  she  only  joined 
the  company  at  Laval. 

At  Bordeaux  there  was  great  rejoicing  and  as  great  subse- 
quent disappointment  among  the  members  of  the  company. 
They  had  expected  to  I'est  every  other  day  during  the  engage- 
ment at  the  Grand  Theatre ;  but  their  implacable  Nemesis 
made  arrangements  to  play  on  the  off-nights  at  Liboume, 
eight  leagues  from  Bordeaux.  The  hours  not  actually  spent 
on  the  boards  were  passed  in  the  coach.     When  not  inclined 


224  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

to  sleep,  the  occupants  of  the  caravan  amused  themselves  with 
cards  or  chatting. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  nocturnal  trips  that  Mademoiselle 
Rachel,  relating  how,  when  she  had  recited  scenes  from  "Poly- 
eucte"  at  Madame  Recamier's,  she  had  been  complimented  by 
an  archbishop,  who  had  remarked  that  one  who  pronounced 
with  such  fervor  the  celebrated  passage,  "  Je  sais  !  je  vols!  je 
crois !"  could  not  but  be  a  Christian  at  heart  (see  page  52), 
added,  "  I  most  certainly  will  turn  Christian  before  I  die." 
Whereupon  M.  Eoussel,  one  of  the  actors,  inquired,  "  For 
whose  benefit,  madam,  will  this  extraordinary  performance  be 
given  V 

This  allusion  to  her  readiness  to  adopt  any  part  in  life  that 
was  best  suited  to  her  interests  was  received  by  the  time-serv- 
ing tragedienne  with  the  look  which,  accompanying  the  fa- 
mous Sortez  !  of  Eoxane,  always  brings  down  so  much  applause. 
M.  Roussel  was  never  after  engaged  to  accompany  Mademoi- 
selle Kachel  on  her  provincial  excursions. 

The  country  towns,  though  delighted  with  the  honor  of 
the  celebrated  tragedienne^ s  visit,  were  not  always  provided 
with  suitable  buildings  for  the  performances,  and  ludicrous 
incidents  occurred  in  consequence.  At  Saintes,  for  instance, 
on  the  first  night,  the  actors  were  dressed,  every  thing  was 
ready,  and  the  doors  stood  wide  open,  but  not  a  spectator 
came.  The  dilapidated  building  had  been  stayed  and  pi-opped 
up  with  sundry  ingenious  contrivances,  but  the  report  of  its 
unsoundness  had  got  abroad,  and  no  one  dared  to  run  the  rislt 
of  its  tumbling  down.  On  the  next  night,  a  safer  house  hav- 
ing been  chosen,  all  fear  was  banished. 

At  the  expiration  of  her  conge,  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had, 
in  the  month  of  September,  quietly  re-entered  on  her  duties 
at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais.  She  continued  to  fulfill  them  with 
the  most  scrupulous  punctuality  until  the  beginning  of  Octo- 
ber. Resolved,  for  motives  which  will  subsequently  appear, 
to  persist  in  the  resignation  she  had  sent  in  on  the  14th  of 
October  of  the  preceding  year,  and  renewed,  in  accordance 
with  the  Decree  of  Moscow,  six  months  after  the  first  notifi- 
cation, on  the  14th  of  April,  1849,  she  had  taken  care  to  give 
*  "All  restc,  jc  nc  nioiirrai  pas  sans  ("tre  Clireticnnc"  (sic.) 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACnEL.  225 

her  antagonists  no  hold  upon  her.  In  the  mean  while,  the 
societaires,  aware  of  the  loss  that  resignation  entailed  upon  the 
company,  diligently  sought  to  invalidate  it,  or  at  least  to  win 
public  opinion  on  their  side,  and  leave  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
all  the  odium  of  these  continual  debates. 

In  accordance  with  their  plan  of  leaving  no  means  of  con- 
ciliation untried,  on  the  12th  of  October,  two  days  before  the 
fatal  day,  the  committee  wrote  to  Blademoiselle  Rachel  to 
endeavor  to  persuade  her  not  to  forsake  a  company  of  which 
she  was  the  pride,  and  which  had  contributed  so  largely  to 
her  fame.  To  these  exhortations  were  added  legal  arguments, 
the  most  powerful  of  which  was  drawn  from  the  82d  clause 
of  the  Decree  of  Moscow.  That  clause  provided  that,  besides 
the  notification  and  reiteration  of  the  resignation,  the  socictaire 
should,  at  the  time  of  tendering  it,  make  a  declaration  specify- 
ing that  he  or  she  never  intended  playing  again  in  any  thea- 
tre, whether  French  or  foreign.  Mademoiselle  Rachel  having 
omitted  to  make  that  declaration,  her  resignation  could  have 
no  immediate  result  until  it  was  renewed  in  due  form.  Con- 
sequently, she  was  requested  to  play  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  on 
the  following  Tuesday  and  Saturday. 

The  lady's  answer  was  short  and  uncompromising :  her 
resignation,  tendered  a  year  ago,  renewed  six  months  after, 
was  not  a  thing  of  so  little  moment  that  she  should  not  have 
taken  into  consideration  all  its  consequences  and  the  duties  it 
involved.  The  committee,  not  deeming  this  answer  sufficiently 
explicit,  caused  the  name  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  to  be  re- 
placed on  the  playbills. 

This  act  of  authority  called  forth  a  letter,  published  in  the 
papers,  in  which  the  tragedienne  complains  that  the  committee 
sought  to  compromise  her  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  by  the 
announcement  of  her  name  in  the  part  oi  Adrienne,  yvhan  they 
held  her  resignation,  which  they  knew  to  be  valid.  She  also 
energetically  repelled  the  charge  of  having  demanded  of  her 
comrades  "  their  money  or  their  lives."  Far  from  which,  she 
asserted  that  she  had  declared  to  all  candidates  for  the  man- 
agement that  she  was  willing  to  consent  to  a  reduction  of 
salaiy  to  facilitate  any  arrangement  conducive  to  the  interests 
of  the  Theatre  Franc^ais. 

K2 


226  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

"If  I  retire,"  added  she,  "it  is  because  I  believe  that  act- 
ors who  are  their  own  managers  can  with  difficulty  maintain 
the  union  so  indispensable  to  their  own  studies,  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  art,  and  to  the  welfare  of  the  theatre.  I  must 
have  had  some  experience  of  this  to  induce  me  to  renounce 
the  life  of  applause  for  which  I  am  indebted  to  the  Parisian 
public,  and  for  which  the  happiest  private  life  could  afford  no 
compensation." 

Thus  the  Pythoness  of  the  "Marseillaise"  acknowledges 
that  she  also  recognized  the  necessity  of  a  king,  or  at  least  a 
dictator,  and  proclaimed  that 

"Le  pire  des  Etats  estl'Etat  populaire." 

The  gauntlet  she  had  thrown  down  was  soon  raised.  To 
her  letter  dated  the  14th  an  answer  appeared  on  the  15th. 
One  of  the  ablest  partisans  of  her  antagonists  conducted  their 
side  of  this  newspaper  controversy.  After  giving  the  reasons 
that  have  already  been  stated  why  her  resignation  was  null, 
the  committee  congratulated  itself  somewhat  ironically  at 
learning  that  Mademoiselle  Kachel  intended  to  consent  to  a 
reduction  of  salaiy. 

"This,"  said  the  dear  comrades  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel, 
"is  an  unexpected  resolution,  that  will  not  prove  one  of  the 
least  benefits  promised  to  our  stage." 

But  the  future  manager  was  advised,  instead  of  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  proposed  reduction,  to  exact  more  regularity 
in  the  performance  of  duties.  "  For  the  public,  thus  boldly 
invoked,"  added  the  writer,  "  will  hardly  believe  that  Mad- 
emoiselle Rachel  is  anxious  at  the  present  day  for  the  inter- 
ests of  the  theatre,  since  she  has  only  been  able  to  average 
there  fifty  perfomances  in  nine  months,  while,  during  the 
ninety-two  days  her  conge  lasted,  she  has  managed  to  perform 
eighty-five  nights !" 

To  the  reproach  of  the  want  of  concord  the  committee  op- 
posed an  energetic  disclaimer.  If  there  was  discord,  it  was 
urged  that  the  apple  was  held  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel ;  for, 
"  the  public  must  at  last  be  told  the  truth,  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel is  her  own  manager ;  she  never  receives  orders ;  she  gives 
the  law.     It  is  she  who  fixes  the  days  she  chooses  to  play, 


BIKMOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  227 

and  what  parts  she  will  take  ;  she  states  how  many — and  tlic 
number  is  considerable — admittances,  boxes,  stalls,  &c.,  she  will 
have  on  nights  when  the  interests  of  the  house  demand  that 
none  be  given.  *  *  *  Mademoiselle  Kachel  can  not  have 
forgotten  the  many  testimonials  of  regard  which  delicacy  for- 
bids our  recalling.  Her  name  placed  on  the  bills  as  never 
Avasthat  of  Talma,  and  as  was  that  of  Mademoiselle  Mars  only 
toward  the  close  of  a  career  as  long  as  it  was  brilliant,  testi- 
fied sufficiently  of  our  deference  to  the  rank  we  have  given  it 
among  us." 

After  this  public  rupture  no  conciliation  was  possible,  and 
the  committee  revived  the  suit  at  law  commenced  the  preced- 
ing year,  but  left  dormant  in  accordance  with  Mademoiselle 
Rachel's  desires.  On  the  31st  of  October,  the  nullity  of  the 
resignation,  on  the  gi'ounds  already  mentioned,  was  again  al- 
leged, and  a  claim  was,  moreover,  put  in  for  damages  for  in- 
fractions of  duty  on  the  14th  of  October,  1848,  and  the  13th 
of  January,  1849.  M.  Marie,  the  distinguished  lawyer  who 
had  been  IMinister  of  Public  Works  under  the  provisional 
government,  undertook  the  defense  of  the  interests  of  the  com- 
mittee. The  counsel  for  the  tragedienne  was  the  .no  less  cele- 
brated M.  Delangie.  * 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  give  the  eloquent  arguments  of 
these  two  brilliant  orators.  We  shall  merely  record  such  of 
the  facts  that  came  to  light  during  the  trial  as  may  illustrate 
the  motives  that  influenced  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  conduct  in 
a  contest  that  did  more  honor  to  her  head  than  to  her  princi- 
ples of  moral  rectitude. 

Among  other  charges  brought  by  M.  Marie  was  that  of 
seeking  to  undermine  the  company,  and  to  obtain  even  at  that 
very  time,  in  high  quarters,  its  reconstitution  according  to  her 
own  views. 

"  Does  Mademoiselle  Rachel,"  he  exclaimed,  "  deem  us  ig- 
norant of  what  is  going  on  without  these  doors  ?  Are  we  not 
well  aware  that  if  there  is  not  in  a  high  quarter  the  integrity 
and  firmness  we  find  here,  the  company  of  the  Theatre  Fran- 
9ais  will  be  sacrificed?  Do  we  not  know  the  new  manager  is 
already  selected,  and  that,  in  case  of  success,  INIademoisellc 
Rachel  is  to  re-enter — not  into  the  company;  she  does  not 


228  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

want  societaires — but  in  the  new  management,  where  she  will 
be  all-powerful,  where  she  will  enjoy  enormous  advantages, 
unconscionable  privileges,  unlimited  conges,  and  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  francs  without  the  trouble  of  earning  them.  It 
is  the  knowledge  of  these  things  that  causes  us  anxiety." 

The  impatience  of  the  public  was  great  to  hear  the  counsel 
for  the  defense.  But  on  the  day  appointed  for  M.  Delangle's 
reply  the  interest  had  taken  another  channel.  An  incident 
that  occurred  on  the  very  day  after  M.  Marie's  eloquent  ar- 
gumentation had  changed  the  whole  course  of  the  aifair,  justi- 
fying in  every  point  his  predictions.  On  the  15th  of  Novem- 
ber a  decree  of  the  Prince  President  was  published,  appointing 
]\I.  Arsene  Houssaye  Commissaire  Administr-ateur  of  the  govern- 
ment at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais.  This  was  a  reform  that  cut 
deeper  than  any  of  those  previously  attempted ;  it  abolished 
at  once  all  the  privileges  conferred  on  the  committee  by  the 
32d  article  of  the  Decree  of  Moscow,  privileges  that  gave  them 
the  entire  management  of  the  affairs  of  the  theatre.  The  com- 
mittee vainly  attempted  to  avoid  this  spoliation.  They  de- 
clared their  readiness  to  receive  M.  Arsene  Houssaye  as  com- 
missary of  the  government,  but  appealed  against  his  nomina- 
tion as  administi-ator.  The  Decree  of  Moscow  was  again  in- 
voked by  M.  Marie,  who  defended  the  societaires.  But  M. 
Chaix-D'Est-Ange,  the  distinguished  lawyer  who  pleaded  for 
M.  A.  Houssaye,  grounded  his  arguments  on  the  motives 
given  in  the  new  decree.  He  demonstrated  that  the  bad  man- 
agement of  the  company  had  made  it  necessary  that  the  gov- 
ernment should  manage  the  funds  of  the  subsidy  of  which  it 
was  responsible.  He  proved,  moreover,  that  the  decree  attack- 
ed was  an  act  of  the  administration  that  the  tribunal  was  in- 
competent to  judge.  This  argument  was  admitted  by  the  tri- 
bunal, who,  on  these  grounds,  rejected  the  claims  of  the  play- 
ers. 

The  solution  of  the  last  question  took  much  from  the  inter- 
est of  Mademoiselle  Eachel's  defense,  as  well  as  from  the  issue 
of  the  suit  in  which  she  was  personally  engaged  with  the 
players.  The  committee  was  now  a  dethroned  potentate,  and, 
whatever  might  be  the  decision  of  the  judges,  it  was  well 
known  that  Mademoiselle  Kachel,  who  refused  to  submit  to 


MEMOIKS    OF    KACIIEL.  229 

the  societaires,  would  accept  the  management  of  M.  Iloussaye, 
tear  up  her  resignation,  and  re-enter  tlic  Theatre  Fran(;uis. 
However,  as  she  had  had  rather  severe  charges  brought  against 
her  by  M.  Marie  in  the  name  of  her  deai'  comrades,  she  felt 
obliged  to  repel  them.  On  the  29th  of  November  M.  Delangle 
undertook  this  difficult  defense,  and  certainly  made  up  in  skill 
and  brilliant  oratory  what  he  lacked  in  good  reasons. 

The  pleading  of  M.  Delangle  was  of  course  directly  the  op- 
posite of  M.  Marie's.  According  to  him,  all  the  tragedienne's 
conduct  had  been  a  continual  series  of  proofs  of  devotion,  zeal, 
labor,  disinterestedness,  and  abnegation.  If  she  had  spoken 
of  resigning  in  184G,  it  was  because  she  was  ill — seriously  ill. 
She  might  have  been  desirous  in  1847  of  a  change  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  company  without  being  at  all  hostile  to  it. 
Tliat  management  was  financially  so  defective  that  the  com- 
pany would  have  inevitably  been  ruined  had  not  an  energetic 
remedy  been  applied  to  the  evil.  In  1848,  during  the  Revo- 
lution, Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  given  proofs  of  the  most  ad- 
mirable devotion  to  the  interests  of  the  committee.  Her  zeal 
knew  no  limits.  M.  Delangle  presented  this  zeal  under  colors 
that  certainly  astonished  the  public  and  probably  his  very 
client. 

"Everyday,"  said  the  eloquent  advocate,  "Mademoiselle 
Rachel,  regardless  of  her  ill  health,  was  on  the  boards.  Yes, 
every  day  she  condemned  herself  to  the  '  Marseillaise.'  Yes, 
every  evening  she  sang  this  '  Marseillaise'  to  the  pit.  Well, 
it  could  not  be  helped,  and  by  that  means  the  theatre  and  the 
treasury  were  filled,  and  the  socictaires  testified  tlicir  gratitude 
to  Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  the  most  flattering  letter.  Since 
then  their  language  has  changed.  She  had  a  right  to  her 
conge,  and  she  took  it.  On  her  return  to  Paris  she  was  deep- 
ly wounded  by  the  dismissal  of  M.  Lockroy,  and  resumed  the 
project  of  retreat  which  had  suggested  itself  to  her  mind  in 
184G." 

After  discussing  the  different  points  in  debate  with  regard 
to  the  damages  claimed,  he  says,  "  The  total  of  the  perform- 
ances of  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  from  the  time  of  her  dchiit  to 
the  present  day,  have  produced  to  the  Theatre  Franrais  the 
sum  of  2,478,482y-^j2J  louis."     As  to  the  demand  of  damages, 


230  IHEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

that  was  laid  aside  when  the  suit  was  dropped  in  1848,  the 
committee  had  admitted  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  plea  of  iU. 
health.  The  salary  kept  back  had  been  paid,  and  even  the 
arrears,  and  with  the  added  courtesy  of  sending  the  amount  to 
her  house. 

Notwithstanding  a  sharp  and  witty  reply  from  M.  Marie, 
the  decision  of  the  tribunal  was  in  conformity  with  M.  De- 
langle's  pleadings — that  is,  the  resignation  was  pronounced  to 
be  legal,  and  that  there  was  no  case  for  damages,  the  commit- 
tee having  admitted  the  plea  of  illness  and  paid  the  arrears. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel  did  not  gain  her  suit  at  the  bar  of 
public  opinion,  though  she  had  been  so  successful  at  the  Tri- 
bunal Civil  of  the  Seine.  The  facts  that  had  come  to  light  in 
the  course  of  the  suit  revealed  principles  which,  though  not  rep- 
rehensible in  the  eye  of  the  law,  conveyed  a  very  unfavorable 
impression  of  the  tragedienne  as  an  artist  and  in  her  social  re- 
lations with  her  fellow-players.  The  old  amateurs,  partisans 
of  the  free  company  of  the  Theatre  Fran(;ais,  contrasted  her 
selfish  and  aggressive  behavior  with  the  amiable  and  concilia- 
ting temper  of  Talma,  the  constant  and  laborious  devotion  of 
Mademoiselle  Mars,  even  to  the  close  of  her  long  and  noble 
career. 

On  leaving  the  court-house.  Mademoiselle  Eachel  hastened 
to  confirm  her  alliance  with  M.  Arsene  Houssaye.  She  did 
not,  however,  show  much  submission  to  the  chief  she  conde- 
scended to  acknowledge,  for  she  spent  the  remainder  of  the 
year  at  home — probably  with  a  view  to  prove  her  assertion 
that  she  needed  rest — and  did  not  make  her  reappearance  un- 
til the  beginning  of  the  year  1850. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

1850. 


iJesMwie.—"  Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle."— "  Angelo."—"  Horace  et 
Lydie." — Conge  of  four  Months  spent  almost  entirely  in  Germany. — 
The  Peasant  Aunt. — Mother  and  Daughter. 

So  far  INIademoiselle  Rachel  had  passed  over  two  thirds  of 
her  dramatic  career.     The  first  five  years,  from  1840  to  1845, 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  231 

were  spent  in  study,  in  laborious  endeavors  to  reach  the  place 
for  which  Nature  had  designed  her — at  times  encouraged  and 
sustained,  at  others  capriciously  censured  or  judiciously  re- 
buked by  criticism.  During  the  last  period,  from  1845  to 
1850,  we  have  seen  her  at  the  apogie  of  her  talent.  In  the 
third,  which  remains  to  be  narrated,  fortune,  not  fame,  seems 
to  be  the  only  end  pursued  by  the  tragedienne,  the  second  being 
valued  but  as  a  means  of  increasing  the  first.  "We  do  not  find 
her  employing  every  leisure  hour  in  learning  new  parts,  ac- 
quiring new  titles  to  gloiy,  or  writing  able  comments  on  some 
favorite  character,  making  it,  as  Mrs.  Siddons  did  that  of  LcKly 
Macbeth,  the  study  of  her  life ;  of  this,  indeed,  she  had  never 
been  capable.  Mademoiselle  Kachel  courted  fortune,  not  glo- 
ry. She  continued  to  appear  in  the  tragedies  of  the  ancient 
repertoire  in  which  she  was  already  known,  but  gave  no  revi- 
vals. She  ventured  into  the  domain  of  comedy,  but  the  man- 
tle of  the  inimitable  Mademoiselle  Mars  had  not  fallen  on  her 
shoulders  ;  she  gathered  no  laurels  there. 

The  few  efforts  she  made  in  the  romantic  drama,  though 
not  all  failures,  added  little  to  her  fame.  In  the  creation  of 
ne\j'  characters  she  was  hardly  more  felicitous ;  of  the  five, 
Lydie,  Valeria,  Lady  Tartuffe,  Rosemonde,  and  the  Czarine,  the 
first  was  too  insignificant  to  count  in  her  roles;  the  second 
and  fourth  were  complete  failures  ;  the  fifth  is  already'  forgot- 
ten ;  the  third.  Lady  Tartujf'e,  alone  won  success.  Yet  these 
five  characters,  three  of  which  hardly  survived  their  first  ap- 
pearance, were  all  the  novelties  brought  forward  by  this  favor- 
ite of  the  public  in  return  for  its  constant  homage  and  munifi- 
cent liberality. 

It  seems  strange  that,  in  this  book-tccming  age,  during  the 
sixteen  years  that  her  career  lasted,  no  play  really  worthy  of 
such  an  actress  was  TN-ritten ;  and  if  there  had  been,  it  is 
doubtful  if  she  would  have  accepted  it.  With  all  her  extraor- 
dinary dramatic  talent  on  the  boards,  this  great  tragedienne 
was  wholly  destitute  of  taste  and  judgment  in  dramatic  litera- 
ture. Of  this  she  gave  repeated  proofs  in  her  adoption  of 
"Judith,"  "Catharine  II.,"  "Le  Yieux  de  la  Montagne," 
and,  as  we  shall  now  see,  in  "Yaleria,"  "Rosemonde,"  and 
the  "  Czarine."     We  mention  but  those  that  were  utter  ab- 


232  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

surdities- — tlie  remainder,  with  the  exception  of  "  Virginie," 
were  but  partially  successful.  Lacking  discernment  in  her 
adoptions,  we  shall  find  Mademoiselle  Rachel  obstinate  and 
capricious  in  her  rejections,  taking  up  with  passionate  enthu- 
siasm Monsieur  St.  Ybar's  atrocious  "  Rosemonde,"  and  sus- 
taining a  lawsuit  rather  than  keep  her  word  and  play  Monsieur 
Legouve"s  "  Medee."  In  this  last  inconsistency  she  gave  the 
measure  of  her  gratitude  and  good  faith,  as  Avell  as  of  her 
taste  and  discrimination. 

In  the  period  of  her  career  we  are  now  entering  Rachel  suf- 
fers the  first  and  most  severe  blow  in  her  family  afiections; 
she  loses  Rebecca,  her  favorite  sister.  Constantly  bent  on 
satisfying  her  ruling  passion,  regardless  of  alienating  the  favor 
of  her  best  friends,  unheeding  the  ominous  signs  of  an  impend- 
ing war,  she  hastens  to  Russia.  On  her  return  she  is  careful 
not  to  miss  adding  the  attraction  of  her  presence  at  the  The- 
atre Fran^ais  to  the  many  others  that  brought  all  the  world 
to  Paris  during  the  Exhibition.  Her  final  attempt  to  add  new 
treasures  to  her  store  was  the  voyage  to  America,  where  she 
was  taken  ill  of  the  disease  which  threatened  to  preclude  her 
ever  reappearing  on  the  stage.  We  will  continue  to  trace,  as 
heretofore,  year  by  year,  her  steps  through  life. 

On  the  25th  of  January,  under  the  new  administration  of 
]\I.  Arsene  Houssaye,  which  she  had  so  indefatigably  and  un- 
scrupulously labored  to  establish,  Mademoiselle  Rachel  conde- 
scended once  more  to  favor  the  public  with  her  presence.  She 
appeared  in  the  rbU  of  Mademoiselle  cle  Belle-Isle.  Her  success 
in  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  probably  induced  her  to  attempt  this 
character,  and  in  so  doing  she  added  another  to  the  list  of  her 
artistic  mistakes.  ISTo  two  roles  could  be  more  different — no 
two  situations  more  dissimilar.  In  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  the 
success  of  Madame  Rachel  was  rather  that  of  the  woman  than 
that  of  the  actress ;  in  that  of  Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle  it  was 
neither  one  nor  the  other.  Tempted  by  the  hope  of  uniting 
in  lier  own  hands  the  fan  of  Mademoiselle  Mai's  and  the  tragic 
scepti-e,  she  assumed  a  character  totally  unsuited  to  her,  and 
the  result  was  a  total  failure. 

This  drama  of  Alexander  Dumas,  having  been  adapted  to 
the  English  stage,  is  too  well  known  to  I'equire  any  notice  here. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  233 

The  character  of  the  naive,  timid,  shrinking,  tremblinfr  cirl 
ignorant  of  the  wiles  of  a  dissolute  court,  made  a  tool  of  by 
Madame  de  St.  Prie,  considered  in  the  light  of  a  new  toy  by 
the  Duke  de  Richelieu,  anxious  to  save  her  father  and  compelled 
to  sacrifice  her  lover,  the  puppet  of  others  and  never  once  act- 
ing of  her  own  v.ill,  mixed  up  in  an  intrigue  her  innocence 
prevents  her  from  perceiving  or  understanding,  was  not  the 
heroine  for  Mademoiselle  Kachel ;  she  was  too  far  removed 
from  antique  simplicity,  too  foreign  to  her  tragic  powers  to  do 
her  any  honor.  The  grmid  pagan  figures  of  which  the  trage- 
dienne was  the  fitting  representative  were  the  victims  of  Des- 
tiny, a  power  above  the  gods  themselves ;  the  ai-tless  child  of 
modern  civilization  is  the  passive  instrument  of  a  bad  woman. 
Had  Mademoiselle  Eachel  failed  in  an  entirely  new  creation, 
she  might  have  had  some  excuse  for  the  attempt.  But  she 
could  not  even  plead  ignorance  or  misconception.  She  was 
acting  in  a  play  that  had  been  twelve  yeare  on  the  stage;  she 
had  undertaken  a  role  created  by  an  actress  who  had  been  un- 
equaled  in  her  own  line,  and  who,  moreover,  possessed  an  ad- 
vantage the  tomb  can  alone  confer.  Her  great  qualities  were 
remembered,  and  contrasted  with  the  faults  and  shortcomings 
of  her  successors  ;  her  failings,  if  she  had  any,  were  forgotten. 

The  partisans  of  the  new  school  who  were  most  anxious  to 
see  Mademoiselle  Rachel  its  representative,  undaunted  by  the 
little  success  of  her  performance  o^ Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle, 
prevailed  on  her  to  appear  in  one  of  Victor  Hugo's  plays. 
The  drama  chosen  was  "  Angelo,"  and  the  two  heroines  were 
personated  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel  and  her  sister  Rebecca  on 
the  18th  of  May.  The  sisters  had  to  contend  with  the  recent 
souvenirs  of  the  gi'eatest  comedienne  of  her  age,  ^lademoiselle 
Mars,  and  the  queen  of  the  drama,  Madame  Dorval,  who  had 
been  brought  together  in  the  two  antagonistic  characters  of 
Tisbc  and  Catarina. 

The  strongly-marked  i-6le  of  Tishc,  the  violent  passions  that 
agitate  her,  love,  rage,  scorn,  all  carried  to  extremes,  the  pow- 
erful situations  to  which  the  plot  gives  rise,  were  all  admira- 
bly suited  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  style  and  powers.  Every 
one  of  the  qualities  she  possessed  in  their  utmost  degree  of 
perfection  were  called  out  here,  and  Tisbc  became  her  best 


234  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

character  in  drama,  as  Phklre  was  her  finest  in  tragedy.  She 
completely  retrieved  what  she  had  lost  in  public  opinion  by 
Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle.  The  description  given  of  her  on 
this  occasion  by  Theophile  Gautier  is  too  vivid,  too  graphic 
to  be  omitted  where  the  aim  is  to  paint  Mademoiselle  Eachel 
in  so  imjaortant  a  part. 

"  One  of  Mademoiselle  Eachel's  great  qvialities  is  that  she 
gives  so  plastic  a  realization  of  the  character  she  represents. 
In  Phcdre  she  is  a  Greek  princess  of  the  heroic  ages,  in  Tishe  she 
personates  an  Italian  courtesan  of  the  sixteenth  century.  There 
can  be  no  mistake ;  sculpture  and  painting  could  do  no  more. 
This  graphic  embodiment  of  the  idea  exercises  a  despotic  in- 
fluence on  the  audience  the  instant  she  appears.  In  tragedy 
she  seems  a  figure  detached  from  a  has  relief  of  Phidias ;  in 
drama  a  Titian  or  a  Bronzino  descended  from  its  frame.  The 
illusion  is  complete.  She  is  a  great  artiste  as  well  as  a  great 
actress.  Even  her  beauty  is  endowed  with  the  most  astonish- 
ing flexibility ;  at  one  time  you  have  before  you  a  sculptured 
hueless  marble,  at  another  a  warm  Venetian  painting.  She 
takes  the  coloiuug  of  the  sphere  in  which  she  is  to  move  :  un- 
der the  antique  colonnade,  a  statue ;  under  the  renaissance 
ceiling,  the  richly-tinted  portrait.  Between  the  scene  and  the 
actress  the  harmony  is  always  perfect." 

The  acting  was  no  less  truthfully  described  than  the  exter- 
nal appearance.  The  graceful  indifierence  with  which  she 
listens  to  the  j^odesta's  laments,  leading  him  ever  away  from 
the  goal  he  seeks  to  reach,  was  extremely  unaffected.  An 
excellent  piece  of  acting  also  was  the  scene  where  she  narrates 
how  her  mother,  the  poor,  friendless  woman  who  sang  ?«o?-- 
laque  songs  on  the  public  squares,  was  set  free  as  she  was  be- 
ing led  to  execution  on  the  charge  of  having  uttered  seditious 
stanzas  against  the  serene  republic  of  Venice — set  free  on  the 
intercession  of  a  lovely  child,  who  begged  of  a  senator,  her 
father,  that  the  hapless  vagrant's  life  might  be  spared.  She 
ran  on  with  a  cai'eless  haste,  as  though  relating  it  on  com- 
pulsion to  one  incapable  of  understanding  her  feelings,  yet  be- 
neath the  rapid,  hurried  utterance  there  was  an  almost  pain- 
fully intense  depth  of  feeling.  In  the  manner  in  which  she 
answers  evasively  the  suspicious  interrogations  of  the  tyrant, 


MEMOmS    OF    RACHEL.  235 

there  was  the  ease  of  the  thorough-bred  lady  and  the  skill  of 
the  finished  actress.  With  true  feminine  impetuosity  she  runs 
back  to  tell  Rodrigo — oh,  nothing — only  that  "  she  loves  him  !" 
The  feline  grace,  the  playfid  coquetry  with  which  she  obtains 
the  key — the  key,  on  which  depend  several  lives — from  the 
modesta,  was  as  much  admired  by  some  as  it  was  criticised  by 
others,  in  whose  memories  the  perfect  acting  of  Mademoiselle 
Mars  Avas  still  fresh,  and  who  thought,  not  without  reason, 
there  were  words  that  never  would  be  spoken  again  as  they 
'  had  been  by  her  lips ;  for  instance,  the  whispered  cry  of 
^' jmutTe  feJiune  /"  One  of  the  gi'eat  scenes,  if  one  can  be  singled 
out  where  all  are  fine,  is  that  of  the  struggle  between  the  two 
representatives  of  two  great  classes  of  modern  society,  when 
the  virtuous  woman  and  the  courtesan  are  brought  tosrether, 
and  the  latter,  having  at  last  the  mastery,  tears  her  victim 
with  the  pitiless  fangs  of  a  hyena.  Here,  irony  and  insult  on 
one  side,  terror  on  the  other,  are  carried  to  their  extremest 
limits.  The  oppressed  one  is  free  :  tfle  worm  has  turned,  the 
disinherited  rides  on  the  neck  of  the  oppressor.  All  the  long- 
endured  shame,  the  contumely  and  scorn  heaped  upon  those 
pariahs  of  humanity,  the  implacable  ferocity  long  dormant  in 
those  trampled  hearts,  vibrated  in  the  voice  of  the  actress. 
The  condemned  strikes  the  executioner,  the  criminal  sentences 
the  judge ! 

None  but  Hugo,  that  great  star  hurled  from  his  high  estate 
by  blind  vanity  and  senseless  ambition,  could  have  given  so 
splendid,  so  terrific,  so  sublime  a  piclure  of  the  courtesan 
trampling  to  earth  the  really  innocent  Avife  who  has  robbed 
her  of  her  lover.  She  turns  the  knife  in  the  wound.  And 
when  the  crucifix  catches  her  eyes,  when  she  forces  the  long- 
sought  truth  from  the  trembling  victim,  how  completely  dis- 
armed and  powerless  stands  the  tigress,  so  cruelly  triumphant 
but  a  moment  since.  The  resignation  with  which  the  untu- 
tored child  of  love  sacrifices  her  passion  and  her  life  to  her 
lover's  happiness,  to  gratitude,  is  truly  sublime. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  charged  with  overdoing  her  part ; 
of  reminding  the  spectator  of  Orestes  pursued  by  the  Furies  ; 
of  seeking  to  irritate  Eodolfo  with  a  violence  which,  if  he  knew 
any  thing  of  the  heart  of  woman,  should  have  brought  him  to 


236  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

his  senses.  She  incites,  provokes,  and  hurries  him  to  the  com- 
mission of  the  deed.  Mademoiselle  Mars,  on  the  contrary, 
led  liodolfo  to  strike  her  by  the  most  provoking  calmness. 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  made  it  plain  that  she  wished  to  be 
killed,  and  instantly.  Mademoiselle  Mars,  even  while  accus- 
ing herself  of  the  atrocious  crime  that  is  to  rouse  the  lover  to 
blind  fury,  trembled,  hesitated,  and,  as  she  rea^/r/ wished  to 
die,  was  careful  not  to  excite  the  suspicion  that  might  thwart 
her  fatal  design. 

It  was,  however,  scarcely  just  to  institute  a  comparison  be- 
tween the  sJdll  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  and  that  of  the  most 
consummate  actress  that  had  ever  trod  those  boards.  Made- 
moiselle Mars  attained  perfection  in  her  art  by  long  years  of 
experience  and  constant  practice.  She  left  nothing  to  chance, 
nothing  to  accident,  but,  by  a  diligent  study  of  the  work  in 
all  its  bearings,  continually  sought  the  intention  of  the  author. 

"  Angelo"  derived  additional  interest  from  the  fact  that  the 
two  sisters  played  the  two  rivals.  Rebecca  lacked  not  tender- 
ness— her  acting  I'evealed  great  depth  of  feeling — there  was, 
perhaps,  too  unreserved,  too  free  a  display  of  it,  to  suit  the 
part  of  the  noble  patrician  dame  who,  even  in  the  most  trying 
moments,  in  the  most  passionate  scenes,  never  gives  way  to 
her  emotion  with  unguarded,  unresdtved  freedom. 

On  the  19th  of  June  Mademoiselle  Rachel  created  the  part 
of  the  heroine  of  Monsieur  Ponsard's  little  one-act  play, 
"  Plorace  et  Lydie."  The  acceptation  "  Le  Moineau  de  Les- 
bie"  had  met  with  probably  induced  the  champion  of  the 
classic  school  to  try  his  hand  at  a  similar  bit  of  modernized 
antiquity.  The  theme  of  this  little  piece  is  the  world-old- 
ever-new  one  of  a  love-quarrel.  It  is  charmingly  written  ;  it 
reads  delightfully  ;  but  on  the  stage  it  is  dull,  flat,  lifeless,  and 
insipid  beyond  measure.  It  is,  perhaps,  not  to  be  regretted 
that  it  proved  an  utter  failure,  as  its  success  would  indubita- 
bly have  brought  before  the  public  of  the  nineteenth  century 
all  the  coui'tesans  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  in  addition  to 
the  modern  Lamias  and  Pluynes  Avhich  the  bad  taste  of  the 
present  generation  tolerates  on  the  stage. 

Pauline — the  chaste  Pauline,  metamorphosed  a  second  time 
into  a  Roman  "  Dame  aux  Camelias,"  sustained  neither  the 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  237 

character  nor  the  piece.  The  chief  attraction  of  this  attempt 
to  portray  such  scenes  of  Roman  private  life  as  good  taste 
would  wish  banished  from  the  boards,  was  the  style  of  cos- 
tume which  in  one  of  the  lady's  attitudes  revealed  more  of  the 
leg  than  is  usually  exhibited. 

This  year  the  conge  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  lasted  four 
months,  during  which  she  performed  in  London,  in  Hamburg, 
in  IJerlin,  in  Dresden,  in  Potsdam.  "  Le  Moincau  de  Lesbie" 
and  "  Polyeucte"  were  performed  "  by  command"  before  the 
Prussian  court,  the  Count  de  Chambord  being  also  present. 
The  queen  condescended  to  send  for  Mademoiselle  Rachel, 
whom  she  complimented  very  highly. 

The  King  of  Prussia  never  missed  a  performance,  going 
sometimes  alone  to  his  logc.  He  seemed  particularly  to  en- 
joy the  after-pieces,  laughing  as  heartily  at  the  fun  contained 
in  them  as  any  bon  bourgeois  de  Paris  could  have  done. 

When  the  company  of  a  theatre  is  called  to  play  before  the 
court,  each  member  gets  a  "  gratification"  of  a  hundred  francs. 
In  preceding  reigns  the  actors  of  the  Theatre  Franrais  were 
the  only  ones  ever  admitted  to  act  at  the  court  of  France. 
The  present  emperor  has  had  the  companies  of  nearly  all  the 
theatres  called  in  succession  to  play  at  court. 

The  Germans  testify  their  approbation  by  frequent  recall- 
ing of  the  actors.  Li  Vienna  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  re- 
called one  night  seventeen  times,  another  nineteen,  a  third 
twenty-one ! 

It  was  during  this  excursion  through  Germany  that  Made- 
moiselle Rachel  gave  another  proof  of  the  respect  for  family 
ties  we  have  mentioned  as  characterizing  her  in  an  eminent 
degree. 

An  old  woman,  dressed  in  the  Sunday  garb  of  the  lower 
classes,  made  inquiry  at  the  hotel  where  the  celebrated  actress 
was  stopping,  saying  that  she  had  been  told  her  niece,  Made- 
moiselle Rachel  Felix,  was  there,  and  she  wished  to  see  her. 
She  was  referred  to  Rose,  the  waiting-maid,  who  took  her  in 
to  her  mistress.  Far  from  manifesting  the  annoyance  of  a 
imrvenu  at  this  claim  of  I'elationship  put  forth  by  one  in  such 
poor  circumstances,  the  niece  was  extremely  kind  to  her 
peasant  aunt,  made  her  stop  and  dine  with  her,  and  invited 


238  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

her  to  be  with  her  while  she  was  in  town,  and  when  she  left 
settled  upon  her  a  sum  which,  in  that  country,  was  amply 
sufficient  to  make  her  comfortable  for  her  life. 

Another  instance  of  the  respect  exacted  by  the  parents  even 
of  this  daughter,  of  whom,  at  the  same  time,  they  were  the 
most  obsequious  flatterers,  we  will  give  in  the  words  of  the 
narrator.  Mademoiselle  Aveuel. 

'  "  We  were  at  this  epoch  in  Berlin,  and  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel, wishing  to  present  some  souvenir^  of  her  gratitude  to  the 
Princess  Chai-lotte  of  Prussia,  concluded  that  the  most  appro- 
priate thing,  as  well  as  the  most  likely  to  please  the  august 
lady  who  honored  her  with  her  patronage,  was  a  very  magnifi- 
cent copy  of  Erailie  Augiei-'s  '  Diane,'  a  unique  copy  pre- 
sented to  Rachel  by  the  author,  and  containing  on  the  fly- 
leaf some  complimentary  stanzas  to  herself.  A  note  was  to 
accompany  this  envoi,  and  to  assist  in  inditing  with  due  brev- 
ity and  respect  the  important  epistle,  I  was  called  into  coun- 
cil. While  thus  engaged.  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  requiring  the 
services  of  a  servant,  requested  her  mother  to  ring  the  bell. 
The  old  lady  arose  for  that  purpose,  but  not  as  quickly  as 
the  impatient  daughter  thought  necessary,  and  the  latter  re- 
iterated rather  pei'emptorily,  '  Mais  sonnez  done,  ma  mere.' 
The  old  lady  stopped  short,  and,  altering  her  course  toward 
the  door,  left  the  room,  saying,  with  the  offended  dignity  of  a; 
duchess,  '  Sonnez  vous  meme,  ma  fille.'  Rachel  made  no 
reply,  but  when  the  note  was  dispatched,  hastened  to  her 
mother's  room  to  apologize,  and  entreat  her  forgiveness  of 
her  imperious  behavior." 

This  was  certainly  a  strange  family.  Whenever  any  thing 
occurred  to  interrupt  the  harmony  between  the  sisters,  they 
would  give  way  to  the  most  furious  and  uncontrolled  passion, 
which  they  vented  in  every  bitter  and  fierce  expression  that 
came  uppermost.  The  only  one  who  always  preserved  a  cer- 
tain dignity,  even  in  her  most  angry  moods,  was  Rachel ;  the 
most  violent  and  inconsiderate  was  Sarah.  When  any  dis- 
pute between  Rachel  and  the  other  members  of  the  family 
occurs,  it  is  finally  made  up  by  the  gift  of  some  trinket — 
good  temper  and  concord  must  be  repurchased  by  the  richer 
one. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  239 

But  in  illness  and  misfortune,  on  any  real  occasion  of  grief 
or  need,  no  devotion  can  be  more  complete  than  that  shown 
by  all  the  other  members  of  the  family  to  the  afflicted  one. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

1851. 


State  of  Theatricals  in  1851. — Despotic  Influence  of  Stars  and  its  bane- 
ful Results. — Dramatic  Authors  manufacturers  to  order. — "Valeria." 
—  Conge  of  five  Months  and  a  half — Italy. — Successor  of  Saint  Peter 
and  the  Children  of  Israel. — Rebecca. 

The  year  1851,  to  which  the  coup  cCctat  that  took  place  at 
its  close  has  given  such  historical  importance,  was  not  favor- 
able to  the  drama.  Society,  shaken  to  its  foundations  in 
1848,  had  had  breathing  time  in  1849,  and  more  especially 
in  1850;  but  its  state  at  that  epoch  was  one  of  transition, 
and  could  not  be  of  long  duration.  The  Presidential  Repub- 
lic was  but  a  temporary  possibility,  that  afforded  a  sort  of 
truce  to  all  parties,  but  all  were  alike  impatient  for  its  cessa- 
tion. Each,  ambitious  of  pre-eminence  and  anticipating  the 
victory^  watched  its  antagonists,  weighed  its  own  strength, 
and  awaited  the  opportunity  to  offer  battle  and  obtain  the 
mastery.  The  wounds  inflicted  by  the  Revolution  of  1848 
were  not  yet  healed;  the  penury  that  had  been  its  conse- 
quence had  not  yet  ceased ;  few  could  yet  command  that 
overplus  Avhich  is  usually  devoted  to  procuring  amusements. 
Minds  were  too  much  preoccupied  with  considerations  of  vital 
importance  to  afford  room  for  literature  or  theatricals.  Anx- 
iety for  the  future  and  the  uneasiness  arising  from  the  unset- 
tled state  of  politics  absorbed  every  thought.  The  only  thea- 
tres that  possessed  any  attraction  were  those  that  gave  plays 
containing  allusions  and  political  satires.  These,  indeed,  were 
crowded,  and  the  applause  with  which  such  plays  wei'e  re- 
ceived was  loud,  tumultuous,  and  prolonged.  It  was  quite  a 
relief  to  be  able  in  public,  and  in  common,  to  ridicule,  hiss, 
and  laugh  at  all  the  crazy  ideas,  all  the  paradoxical  absurdi- 
ties, all  the  dangerous  systems,  from  the  ruinous  and  subver- 
sive application  of  which  so  narrow  an  escape  had  been  made. 


240  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL. 

Plays  of  this  description,  however,  were  not  within  the 
limits  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  :  they  belonged  to  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  minor  theatres,  among  which,  for  this  class  of  per- 
formances, the  Vaudeville  took  the  lead.  No  other  theatre 
made  as  good  use  of  the  sceptre  of  Momus,  or  applied  it  so 
wittily  and  lustily  on  the  crackbrained  pates  of  the  day. 
Among  the  many  pieces  of  this  style  suggested  by  late  events, 
two  were  particularly  excellent  of  their  kind  :  "  La  Propriete 
c'cst  le  Vol,"  and  "  Les  Trois  Parties  de  la  Foire  aux  Idees." 
Frivolous  as  these  works  may  be  deemed,  not  to  mention  the 
powerful  influence  they  had  on  public  opinion  would  be  an 
omission  in  the  history  of  the  great  effects  that  have  resulted 
from  petty  causes.  Their  light  sapngs  and  piquant  epigrams 
aroused  the  dormant  good  sense  of  the  people;  their  witty 
sai-casms  gave  rise  to  serious  reflections ;  and  as  each  specta- 
tor retired  to  his  home,  he  felt  grieved  and  ashamed  that  he 
should  have  been  the  dupe  and  the  victim  of  so  many  follies. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  The'atre  Franrais,  deprived  of  the  re- 
source of  chanting  the  "  Marseillaise,"  was  reduced  to  its  mas- 
ter-pieces, the  beauties  of  which  the  public  had  neither  time 
nor  inclination  to  appreciate.  The  receipts  were  by  no  means 
brilliant.  During  this  year  there  was  not  one  reviMil  from 
the  rich  old  classic  i^cpertonj,  and  but  one  creation  that  might 
be  called  a  two-fold  one^  but  which  was  as  unfortunate  as  it 
was  singular.  Like  almost  all  deformities,  this  monstrous 
conception  scarcely  outlived  its  birth. 

Criticism  this  year  took  no  notice  whatever  of  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  save  on  the  occasion  of  this  strange  innovation  intro- 
duced to  attract  the  notice  of  the  public.  It  succeeded  in 
momentarily  dispelling  the  lethargic  indifference  manifested 
toward  her,  but  not  exactly  in  the  way  she  would  have  chosen. 

There  is  a  rock  that  fortunate  and  successful  ambition  sel- 
dom avoids,  and  which  eventually  proves  its  ruin — a  rock  on 
which  celebrities  of  all  kinds  arc  too  frequently  wrecked  :  that 
rock  is  the  exaggeration  of  their  own  personality  by  the  ab- 
sorption of  all  surrounding  objects.  When  talent  of  a  supe- 
rior order  has  become  so  blinded  by  vanity  that  it  has  the 
most  utter  contempt  for  its  atmosphere,  and  decrees  an  apothe- 
osis to  its  own  merits,  it  is  infallibly  a  premonitory  sign  of  a 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  .  241 

decline  in  public  opinion;  disinterested  admiration  retires ;  the 
new  divinity  disdains  the  homage  of  simjDle,  truthful  faith ; 
the  votaries  attached  by  interest  alone  surround  the  altar  and 
form  a  solitary  group.  If  one  of  these  satellites  fall  away,  the 
voluntary  exile  becomes  a  dangerous  €nemy  ;  no  bitterness  can 
equal  that  of  the  apostate  against  his  former  creed. 

Thus  did  it  happen  in  the  world  of  art  of  which  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel  was  the  centre  and  the  queen.  She  attempted 
with  her  comrades,  with  the  public,  with  the  press,  to  exert  a 
crushing  despotism — she  created  around  her  the  most  com- 
plete solitude.  Toward  the  close  of  her  career  she  had  alien- 
ated a  number  of  the  partisans  she  had  had  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  press,  and  consequently  a  portion  of  the  public. 
Sundry  of  her  acts  during  the  last  few  years  had  been  stamp- 
ed with  that  excessive  egotism  that  has  its  source  in  vain^lo- 
rious  blindness,  producing  seliish  forgetfulness,  or  disregard  of 
social  ties  and  social  duties. 

These  errors  of  the  heart  had  made  numerous  enemies,  of 
whose  hostility  and  power  she  was  not  ignorant,  as  will  be 
shown  hereafter  in  one  of  her  own  letters  to  M.  Legouve. 

It  can  not  be  denied  that  her  arbitrary  manner  toward  the 
Theatre  Fran^ais  ;  her  voyages  to  Russia  and  to  America — the 
first  when  France  was  on  the  point  of  a  rupture  with  that 
country ;  the  second  undertaken  at  the  time  of  the  Exposition 
Universelle,  when  France  was  enjoying  with  legitimate  pride 
the  pleasure  of  displaying  her  treasures  of  art  and  industry  to 
the  admiring  eyes  of  foreign  nations — each  time  at  epochs  and 
under  circumstances  that  made  them  doubly  distasteful  to  the 
public  that  had  been  her  kind  and  constant  patron  throughout 
her  career — all  these  errors  of  tact  had  thrown  a  shadow  on  her 
reputation  as  an  artiste,  and  given  a  bad  opinion  of  her  heart. 

All  the  petty  hates — the  brooding,  impotent  desires  for  re- 
venge amassed  in  many  hearts,  smarting  under  some  injustice, 
some  long-remembered  insult,  eagerly  embraced  the  opportu- 
nity of  revenge  the  arrival  of  Madame  Ristori  subsequently 
afforded  them,  well  knowing  that  every  leaf  added  to  her  ri- 
val's ci'own  would  be  looked  upon  by  the  jealous  Jewess  as 
taken  from  her  own ;  that  every  token  of  approbation  to  the 
foreign  star  was  a  stab  to  that  selfish  cosmopolitan. 

L 


242  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

But  we  anticipate  on  the  yet  unnarrated  epoch  of  that  total 
eclipse.  Suffice  it  for  the  present  that  we  have  shown  the 
reason  why  such  plays  as  "Valeria"  and  "  Rosemonde"  came 
to  be  received  by  the  once  severe  comite  de  lecture  of  the  most 
enlightened  and  most  severe  stage  in  the  world.  Under  such 
a  regime,  the  coulisses  of  the  theatre  necessarily  became  a  sort 
of  little  Bourse,  the  feuilletons  of  criticism  became  bills  of  ex- 
change, dramatic  authors  manufacturers  to  order,  and  the  la- 
bors of  intellect  manufactured  goods. 

To  this  class  of  produce  does  "  Valei'ia"  belong.  This  drama, 
in  five  acts  and  in  verse,  the  joint  production  of  Messieux's 
August  Maquet  and  Jules  Lacroix,  was  constructed  as  a  sort 
of  pedestal  on  which  the  idol  might  be  exhibited  on  high  in 
two  characters — as  a  tragedienne  and  a  cantah-ice — two  very 
opposite  roles,  and  the  last  very  inappropriate  to  the  purpose 
the  authors  wished  to  carry  out — the  glorification  of  Made- 
moiselle Eachel.  The  performance,  notwithstanding  the  real 
talent  and  the  endeavors  of  the  actress,  was  a  dead  failure. 
She  had  demanded  the  lion's  share — she  had  it  in  the  non- 
success. 

This  drama,  historical  only  in  the  names  of  the  personages, 
and  purely  of  invention  as  to  the  incidents  and  plot,  pertains, 
with  regard  to  the  latter  point,  to  that  class  of  romances  of 
which,  under  the  jiseudomjme  of  Alexander  Dumas,  M.  Maquet 
has  been  one  of  the  most  indefatigable  and  fertile  producers. 

The  method  most  frequently  made  use  of  by  these  innova- 
ting historians  is  the  rehabilitation  of  their  heroes  in  the  very 
teeth  of  contradictory  historical  facts.  Authoritative  docu- 
ments are  summarily  set  aside,  and  their  place  is  usurped  by 
absurd  fancies,  gratuitous  hypotheses,  and  outrageous  inven- 
tions, entirely  at  variance  with  time-consecrated  tradition — 
Livy,  Tacitus,  and  Juvenal  are  thrust  aside,  and  peremptorily 
silenced  by  these  modern  remodelers  of  ancient  dramatis  per- 
sonce. 

"  Valeria"  is,  after  all,  but  a  very  long  paradox,  full  of  an 
affectation  of  erudition,  the  plot  being  that  of  a  melo-drama 
halting  on  historical  crutches.     The  language  is  versified  prose. 

A  hemistich  of  Juvenal  in  his  satire,  "  Titulum  mentita 
Lysicaj,"  accuses  Messalina  of  having,  under  a  borrowed  name, 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  243 

pei'ambulated  the  streets  of  Rome  at  night.  Did  the  poet 
adopt  too  lightly  the  malicious  slanders  of  the  chroniquc  tcan- 
daleiise,  or  was  it  in  the  name  of  rigid,  inflexible  truth  that  he 
stigmatized  the  imperial  courtesan  ?  What  has  remained  an 
unsolved  question  so  many  centuries  might  still  be  left  a  doubt 
for  future  generations ;  but  surely  there  is  no  cause  why  the 
contrary  supposition  should  be  warmly  supported  against  the 
authority  of  the  Latin  poet,  and  without  the  coxToborative 
testimony  of  a  single  line  in  the  ancients. 

The  best  proof  that  the  authors  were  somewhat  dubious  of 
the  reception  their  whitewashed  heroine  would  meet  from  the 
public  was  that  they  dared  not  present  her  under  her  Avell- 
known  name — the  name  that  has  descended  to  us  as  the  syn- 
onym of  every  thing  utterly  and  irretrievably  vicious  in  woman, 
as  the  name  of  the  proverbially  infamous  creature  that  was 
depraved  among  the  depraved ;  so  foul,  indeed,  that  she  added 
a  darker  stain  to  the  throne  whose  seat  was  desecrated  by  the 
imbecility  of  a  Claude,  whose  steps  supported  a  Narcissus,  a 
Pallas,  parvenus  of  favor,  freedmen  who  had  earned  their  court 
promotion,  not  by  talent,  like  Horace,  but  by  villainous  pan- 
dering to  vice  and  the  ready  espionage  of  the  moment.  They 
dared  not  call  her  Messaline  ;  they  chose  her  less-known  ap- 
pellation of  Valeria,  and  under  this  title  she  has  undergone  a 
complete  transfiguration ;  they  made  this  creature  of  their  own 
invention,  if  not  a  vpstal,  at  least  the  friend  of  Elia,  a  priest- 
ess of  Vesta  on  whose  bosom  her  immaculate  spirit  takes  flight. 

To  facilitate  this  startling  assertion,  the  authors  have  made 
use  of  a  modern  invention.  Valeria,  the  empress,  has  a  sis- 
ter, Lysisca,  who  is  in  exterior  appearance  exactly  her  counter- 
part, while  in  morals  she  is  diametrically  her  opposite.  This 
sister,  forsaken  in  her  infancy,  has  become  the  most  notorious 
courtesan  in  the  Roman  empire ;  her  beauty,  her  adventures, 
are  the  common  talk.  Valeria,  the  imperial  sister,  chaste, 
noble-minded,  generous,  and  compassionate  as  she  is  fair,  is 
guided  in  all  she  does  by  maternal  ambition.  She  is  unceas- 
ingly devising  the  means  of  foiling  the  intrigues  oi  Agriiipina, 
her  husband's  niece,  who  seeks  to  raise  her  own  son  Domitius 
— afterward  Nero — to  power  at  the  expense  of  Britannicus, 
the  son  of  Valeria. 


244  IHEMOIRS    OF   KACHEL. 

The  rival  mothers  find  their  pretensions  supported  by  the 
two  freedmen.  Pallas  intrigues  for  Agrippina ;  Narcissus 
watches  over  the  safety  of  the  empress,  prevents  her  falling 
into  the  toils  of  her  enemies,  or  rescues  her  when  she  has  done 
so.  Each  has  his  own  interest ;  ambition  alone  stimulates  the 
zeal  of  Pallas,  ambition  and  love  that  of  Narcissus.  Thus  the 
latter,  though  seeking  every  means  of  securing  the  triumph  of 
Valeria,  persecutes  to  the  utmost  of  his  power  the  only  honest 
man  in  the  play,  Silius,  a  young-old  Roman,  cut  out  on  the 
pattern  of  Corncille's  heroes,  and  a  very  secondary  role,  al- 
though meant  to  contrast  with  that  of  Claude. 

The  emperor  himself  divides  with  Mnesier,  a  dancer,  the 
favorite  lover  oiLysisca,  the  task  of  amusing  the  public.  This 
Claude,  by  the  way,  was  a  Frenchman,  born  in  Lyons,  the 
first  of  his  nation  raised  to  the  throne  of  the  Ciesars,  and  it  is 
strange  the  authors  should  have  chosen  to  bring  in  this  weak, 
pedantic,  drunken  buffoon,  loading  him,  moreover,  with  all 
the  odium  they  could  add  to  the  character.  Claude's  hobby 
is  to  be  always  judging  causes  :  he  judges  Mnester  because  he 
would  not  dance,  Silius  because  he  has  in  his  portico  busts  of 
Brutus  and  Cassius,  but  forgives  him  on  Valeria's  remark  that 
they  are  works  of  art  which  even  he,  the  emperor,  might  be 
willing  to  admire.  Silius,  however,  has  committed  a  more  un- 
pardonable crime.  A  letter,  intercepted  by  Narcissus,  is  laid 
before  the  emj^eror ;  in  this  fatal  epistle  the  stern  young 
Eoman,  writing  to  his  friend  Cecina,  has  said  that  "folly 
united  to  crime"  occupied  the  imperial  throne.  Silius,  con- 
demned to  the  lions,  kills  the  monster  that  was  to  devour  him, 
and  is  taken  to  his  own  house  merely  wounded.  It  seems  he 
had  seen  Lysisca  and  mistaken  her  for  the  empress,  and  hence 
his  cruel  remark.  Cecina,  his  friend,  falls  into  the  same  er- 
ror ;  and  all  the  dr-amatis  persona;,  whether  unintentionally  or 
maliciously,  committing  the  same  mistake  from  beginning  to 
end  of  the  five  acts,  the  result  is  the  most  irretrievable  con- 
fusion, the  most  intricate  imhi'oglio  conceivable,  amid  which 
the  few  interesting  situations  and  fine  passages  are  quite  lost. 

The  second  act  is  unquestionably  the  least  objectionable. 
The  scene  passes  in  the  dwelling  of  the  wounded  Silius,  whose 
friends  are  preparing  his  flight.      Valeiia,  taking  the  opportu- 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  245 

nity  of  one  of  Claude's  orgies,  comes  alone,  and  at  night,  to 
justify  herself  to  the  only  man  whose  esteem  she  deems  wortli 
possessing.  She  owns  her  love  for  him  who  slandered  without 
knowing  her,  and  ends  by  asking  tlie  support  of  his  strong 
arm  and  influence  with  the  people  for  her  son,  continually  ex- 
posed to  perish  by  the  manoeuvres  of  the  opposite  faction.  It 
never  appears  clearly  whether  the  ruling  passion  is  the  mater- 
nal ambition  of  the  emjn^ess  or  the  love  of  Valeria  for  Silius. 
While  virtuous  and  political  speeches  are  interchanged  in  the 
house  of  Silius,  in  the  opposite  dwelling  Lysisca  is  entertaining 
her  lover,  Mnester,  in  tlie  street,  Agripjnna  and  her  spies  are 
on  the  watch,  and  Narcissus  and  his  spies  are  letting  them- 
selves into  the  house  of  Silius  through  a  private  door.  Lysis- 
ca is  arrested,  to  be  used  as  a  tool  of  Agrippina,  and  Valeria 
is  enabled,  under  the  escort  of  Narcissus,  to  return  to  Mount 
Palatine. 

The  remainder  of  the  drama  is  a  series  of  improbabilities. 
In  the  absence  of  the  empress,  who  is  openly  gone  to  Baia 
under  pretense  of  her  son's  health,  but  in  reality  to  prepare  a 
revolution,  the  courtesan,  Lysisca,  and  her  lover,  Mnester,  are 
brought  into  a  room  of  the  palace,  where  a  splendid  banquet 
awaits  them,  and  they  are  repeatedly  told  to  "  consider  them- 
selves at  home."  At  first  the  worthy  pair  are  somewhat 
frightened  as  well  as  surprised,  but  finally,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  several  cups  of  the  rich  wines  so  temptingly  placed 
within  their  reach,  the  birds  become  accustomed  to  their 
splendid  cage,  Lysisca  especially  gets  so  unconcerned,  so 
merry  with  the  aforesaid  help,  that  she  indulges  in  a  Baccha- 
nalian song  of  an  ultra-anacreontic  taste.  This  scene  has 
been  got  up  for  the  edification  of  Claude,  who,  drunk  with 
Hippornane,  is  brought  by  Agrippina  to  witness  the  scandalous 
debauchery  of  the  supposititious  emj^ress,  whom  he  imagined 
on  the  way  to  Baia.  In  the  effervescence  of  his  horse-tipsy 
rage  he  signs  a  deed  of  divorce,  which  has  been  drawn  up  in 
readiness,  and  the  sentence  of  death  follows.  But  at  that 
moment  the  real  Valeria,  surrounded  by  her  guards,  makes 
her  appearance.  The  sottish  emperor  does  not  see  her,  for  he 
has  just  fallen  asleep  on  the  couch  ;  the  bafiled  conspirators 
cnn  not  get  him  away,  but  manage  to  stab  the  dancer  and 


246  MEMOIKS    OF    EACHEL. 

hurry  oflf  Lysisca,  who  is  kept  by  them  for  some  future  occa- 
sion. Pallas  had  given  orders  for  the  assassination  of  the  ein- 
press  at  Baia,  but  the  wary  Narcissus  had  warned  and  made 
her  hasten  back. 

Valeria,  triumphant,  surrounded  by  the  Generals  Corhulon, 
Plantius,  and  others,  free  by  the  act  of  divorce,  is  secure,  for 
she  holds  Claude  prisoner,  and  has  given  orders  that  to  her 
alone  he  can  be  delivered.  Valeria  is  going  to  reign,  and  with 
her  innocence  and  virtue.  She  is  about  to  marry  Silius,  when 
his  friend  Cecina  arrives,  and  spoils  every  thing.  Cecina 
swears  in  the  presence  of  the  army  and  on  the  innocent  head 
of  her  child  that  the  imperial  Valeria  is  a  common  courtesan. 
The  rest  may  be  easily  guessed — the  scandalized  generals  beat 
a  hasty  retreat.  Claude,  delivered  by  Pallas,  and  Lysisca, 
whom  the  guards  mistake  for  the  empress,  is  reinstated  on  the 
throne,  and  sends  a  centurion  to  the  forsaken  Valeria  with  the 
order  for  her  death.  Meanwhile  tlie  assassination  and  decap- 
itation of  Lysisca,  accomplished  by  Agrippina  and  Pallas,  ren- 
der all  ulterior  justification  impossible,  and  leave  the  memory 
of  the  empressB  blackened  throughout  all  ages.  This  last 
comforting  news  is  told  to  Valeria  by  Narcissus,  who  finds  out 
the  existence  of  the  sister  and  her  death  at  the  same  time. 
The  discovery  is,  however,  very  satisfactory  to  Silius,  who 
promises  to  survive  the  empress  to  publish  the  facts  and  clear 
her  fame.  It  is  not  very  likely  that  Agrippina,  who  comes  in 
to  enjoy  her  rival's  death-pangs,  will  let  him  perform  this 
duty.  The  dying  agony  of  Valeria  is  rendered  ridiculous  by 
the  absurd  prophecy  with  which  she  curses  her  rival. 
"Ton  fils  sera  Neron,  ton  fils  tuera  sa  mere !" 

The  two  pens  that  worked  on  this  drama  are  easily  distin- 
guishable ;  the  designer,  who  drew  up  the  plan,  and  the  poet, 
who  scattered  here  and  thei-e  some  fine  verses,  that  sparkle 
amid  the  rubbish  with  which  it  is  filled.  Above  all  is  dis- 
tinctly apparent  the  imperious  will  of  the  actress,  who  exacted 
that  all  the  interest  should  centre  in  her  part,  and  that  the 
other  characters  should  be  reduced  to  the  most  insignificant 
proportions.  In  her  eagerness  to  deprive  every  one  else  of 
any  share  of  success,  she  assumed  the  responsibility  of  a  fail- 
ure the  most  complete  and  irretrievable. 


MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  .  247 

The  difficulty  of  representing  two  characters  in  which  phys- 
ical and  moral  attributes  are  so  extraordinarily  similar  and 
dissimilar,  was  enhanced  by  the  obvious  attempts  the  actress 
made  to  establish  a  diftercnce.  She  spoke  the  part  of  Valeria 
in  a  deep  bass,  and  that  oi  Lysisca  in  her  sharpest  keys.  The 
effect  produced  by  these  alternate  chest  and  head  notes  was 
far  from  agreeable.  As  for  the  song,  she  had  much  better 
have  left  that  out  altogether ;  singing  Avas  not  her  forte,  and 
of  all  songs  this  certainly  was  in  the  worst  taste. 

This  year  Mademoiselle  Rachel  prolonged  her  conge  to  five 
months  and  a  half.  She  left  Paris  on  the  31st  of  May,  and, 
after  giving  two  performances  in  Boulogne,  proceeded  to  Lon- 
don, where  she  had  secured  a  very  profitable  engagement  for 
two  months.  She  received  of  Mr.  Mitchell  10,000  francs  for 
twenty-five  performances,  fi'ec  of  all  expense,  even  to  that  of 
her  hotel  bills. 

From  England  she  returned  to  the  Continent,  and  perform- 
ed in  the  following  towns  :  Antwerp,  Brussels,  Liege,  Namur, 
Cologne,  Berlin,  Prague,  Vienna,  Pesth,  Gratz,  Lintz,  Trieste, 
Venice,  Milan,  Navarre, Turin,  Genoa,  Naples,  Kome,  Florence, 
and  Livourne,  returning  via  Marseilles  to  Paris.  She  had  been 
extremely  well  received  during  this  tour.  Kaphael,  who  was 
the  manager  of  his  sister's  company,  had  made  a  preliminary 
excursion,  and  prepared  the  way  for  her.  At  Turin  the  young 
king  placed  at  her  disposal,  free  of  expense,  the  Teatro  Kegio, 
which  is  always  closed  dui-ing  the  summer.  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  had  decidedly  furthered  her  own  interests  when  she 
obtained  a  change  in  the  administration  that  permitted  of  such 
excursions. 

It  was  reported  that  Avhcn  Rachel  was  in  Rome  she  had 
been  desirous  of  receiving  baptism  at  the  hands  of  the  Holy 
Father.  She  had  been  several  times  heard  to  announce  her 
determination  to  adopt  Catholicism,  but  it  is  difficult  to  as- 
certain if  one  so  accustomed  to  play  a  part  off  as  well  as  on 
the  stage  was  ever  really  sincere.  She  may,  however,  have 
been  so  at  the  moment,  under  the  powerful  influence  of  certain 
impi-essions.  Hers  was  a  very  excitable  nature,  and  it  was 
difficult  for  an  artiste  possessing  to  so  high  a  degree  the  sense 
of  the  grand  and  the  beautiful  not  to  be  deeply  struck  with 


2-48  MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL. 

the  solemnity,  pomp,  and  splendor  with  which  the  Church 
celebrates  its  mysteries. 

We  will  not  vouch  for  the  truth  of  the  report  that  Rachel 
met,  as  hy  chance — it  having  been  previously  arranged  thus — 
his  holiness  in  the  gardens  of  the  Vatican,  and,  kneeling,  avow- 
ed her  firm  resolve  to  be  a  Christian.*  But  we  have  the  au- 
thority of  an  eye-witness  of  undoubted  veracity  for  her  behavior 
on  her  return  from  her  visit  to  St.  Paul's  and  the  Vatican. 
She  came  into  the  room  where  her  sister  Rebecca  and  one 
other  person  were  sitting,  and  for  some  time  remained  mute 
and  absorbed  in  thought,  walking  up  and  down  with  knit 
brow  and  abrupt,  agitated  gestures.  When  she  spoke  at  last 
it  was  to  utter  ejaculations  of  admipation  and  awe.  To  the 
questions  addressed  to  her  she  returned  no  direct  answer,  but 
exclaimed  in  broken,  disjointed  phrases,  "  Yes,  this  is  the  true 
faith.  This  is  the  God-inspired  creed.  None  other  could 
have  accomplished  such  works.     Truly,  I  will  be  one  of  them 

yet." 

Rebecca  heard  this  with  intense  indignation,  and  remon- 
strated wath  extreme  warmth  against  the  proposed  apostasy, 
repeating  at  intervals,  as  though  to  clinch  her  arguments, 
"  Oh,  what  would  Sarah  say !  Oh,  how  I  wish  Sarah  were 
here !"  The  temper  of  Sarah  was  dreaded  by  all  the  family, 
and  had  its  weight  even  on  Rachel. 

The  witness  of  this  singular  scene  was  astonished  at  the 
patience  with  which  the  elder  sister  endured  the  reproaches 
of  the  younger.  The  tragedienne  vouchsafed  no  reply,  but, 
throwing  herself  on  the  bed,  remained  there  engrossed  in  her 
own  reflections. 

The  other  members  of  the  Felix  family,  though  not  j)rac- 
ticers  of  its  forms,  are  stanch  adherents  of  their  faith.  Re- 
becca had  much  of  Rachel's  serious,  contemplative  turn  of 
mind.  She  never  could  understand  a  jest  on  certain  subjects. 
The  female  members  of  the  company  having  gone  to  visit  the 

*  However  improbable  this  may  appear,  it  is  not  more  so  than  the 
very  recent  presentation  of  a  well-known  Israelite  banker,  his  wife  and 
daughter,  to  the  vicegerent  of  Christ  and  successor  of  St.  Peter.  The 
conversion  of  a  soul  was  surely  of  more  value  than  the  probable  bene- 
fits of  a  railway. 


JIEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  219 

Church  of  St.  Jean  dc  Latcran,  those  who  were  Catholics  un- 
dertook the  ascent  of  the  stairs  in  the  usual  manner.  An 
ancient  dame  of  very  stout  proportions  preceded  them,  and 
the  aspect  she  presented  to  those  behind  her,  as  she  crept 
slowly  up  on  her  knees,  was  so  exceedingly  ludicrous,  that,  af- 
ter sundry  vain  attempts  to  preserve  a  becoming  gravity,  the 
young  women  found  it  impossible  to  suppress  a  titter.  When 
they  reached  the  top,  Rebecca,  who  had  ascended  the  other 
way,  and  had  seen  their  untimely  merriment,  severely  re- 
proached them  : 

"AVere  I  a  Christian,"  said  she,  "and  performing  an  act  I 
deemed  meritorious  in  the  sight  of  my  God,  I  would  die  rath- 
er than  indulge  in  such  profane  laughter!" 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

1852. 


"Diane." — "Louise  de  Lignerolles." — Invitation  from  the  King  of 
Prussia. — Severe  Illness. — Homoeopathic  Doctor. — Appearance  at 
the  new  Palace  of  Potsdam. — Presentation  to  the  Empress  of  Russia. 
— The  Czar  Nicholas  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel. — Return  to  Paris. — 
Prolongation  of  Life. — "  Aspasie." — "Rosemonde." 

On  the  23d  of  February  of  this  year  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
appeared  in  the  part  o( Diane,  in  Emilie  Augier's  drama.  The 
greatest  fault  of  this  work  is  that  its  chief  points  are  copied 
from  Victor  Hugo's  "  Marian  Delorme,"  with  this  difference, 
that  what  are  in  the  latter  beauties,  ai'e  in  the  former  defects. 
The  age — that  of  Louis  XIII. — the  subject — the  edict  against 
dueling — several  of  the  scenes  and  several  of  the  personages, 
present  a  striking  resemblance.  The  charming  Marian  De- 
lorme is  spoiled  by  being  metamorphosed  into  a  very  uninter- 
esting spinster,  and  Didier,  that  splendid  figure  of  romance, 
into  a  hair-brained  boy-brother.  This  evident  imitation  is 
the  more  surprising,  if  it  was  intentional,  as  M.  Augier  is  a 
partisan  of  the  classic  school,  and,  consequently,  no  admirer 
of  the  great  innovator. 

Between  the  talent  of  the  two  authors  and  the  respective 
merits  of  their  works  no  comparison  can  be  established.    Even 

L  2 


250  MEMOIKS    Of    RACHEL. 

were  the  drama  of  M.  Augier  cut  out  in  as  masterly  a  style 
as  that  of  Victor  Hugo,  it  -would  yet  lack  the  magnificent 
poetry  in  which  the  latter  has  arrayed  his  story. 

Notwithstanding  the  imitation  that  appears  in  the  very 
first  act,  the  play  of  "  Diane"  opens  well.  The  heroine  and 
her  brother  are  the  descendants  of  an  ancient  house,  shorn  of 
its  former  splendor,  and  reduced  to  so  low  an  ebb  that  Diane, 
who  is  the  elder,  is  compelled  to  resort  to  all  the  expedients 
of  proud  poverty  to  maintain  her  beloved  and  only  brother  in 
his  rank  and  station.  The  youth,  the  last  male  of  a  long 
line  of  nobles,  is  the  object  of  the  most  affectionate  and 
watchful  solicitude  on  the  part  of  the  fair  young  mother-sis- 
ter. It  is  midnight,  and,  late  as  is  the  hour,  Diane  and  Par- 
mejon,  a  faithful  old  follower — a  sort  of  Caleb  Balderstone — 
are  busily  engaged  making  a  doublet  for  the  heir.  The  good 
old  man  gives  a  very  pretty  enumeration  of  the  divers  trades 
and  callings  he  has  exercised  in  behalf  of  the  beloved  boy. 

"  Que  de  metiers  il  m'a  fait  faire  le  jeune  homme  !" 

The  illustrious  pair  is  suddenly  startled  by  the  irruption  of 
four  young  gallants,  Messieurs  de  Pienne,  de  Boissy,  de  Fargy, 
and  de  Cruas,  in  pursuit  of  a  fair  maiden.  Marguerite,  who,  on 
her  way  from  midnight  mass,  was  going  to  the  Hotel  dc 
Eohan.  A  young  girl  of  respectable  parentage  treading  the 
streets  of  Paris  at  that  hour  and  alone,  when  we  have  it,  on 
the  authority  of  Boileau,  that  thirty  years  later  the  streets  of 
the  capital  of  the  most  civilized  country  in  the  world  were,  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  des  coupe  gorges,  shows  bad 
choice  of  hours,  at  all  events.  The  first  act  goes  roundly  to 
work,  for  in  this  scene  we  have  the  lady  whose  house  has 
been  so  unceremoniously  invaded,  falling  in  love  with  one  of 
the  wretches  whom  she  has  just — and  very  properly^ordered 
out,  and  the  -n-retch,  J/,  de  Pienne,  at  once  reciprocates.  M. 
Paul,  the  brother,  who  makes  his  entree  through  the  balcony, 
falls  in  love  Avith  the  errant  demoiselle,  who  is  no  less  sudden- 
ly impressed  in  his  favor.  The  scene  between  old  Parmejon 
and  young  De  Pienne  is  full  of  energy.  The  aged  senitor 
draws  his  sword  to  repel  the  insolent  intruder,  who,  in  deri- 
sion, affects  to  parry  merely  with  his  cane.     Diane  stops  the 


3IKM0IRS   OF  EACHEL.  251 

unequal  combat,  and  the  noblemen,  admiring  her  divinity,  re- 
spectfully apologize  and  retire,  hat  in  hand.  The  kindly  ex- 
postulations of  the  sister  with  her  too  flighty  brother  are  very 
sweetly  written,  and,  indeed,  the  whole  of  this  act  is  lively 
and  replete  with  interest. 

The  second  act  contains  what  is  intended  for  the  main  sub- 
ject, the  groundwork  of  the  whole  drama — a  conspiration 
against  the  hero  of  the  day,  Cardinal  de  Richelieu.  In  "  Ma- 
rion Delorrae,"  Victor  Hugo  has  also  chosen  this  great  per- 
sonage as  the  Fate  in  whose  powerful  grasp  the  threads  of  all 
these  petty  existences  are  held.  He  also  raised  an  altar  to 
that  great  genius,  but — and  there  is  the  greatest  proof  of  his 
superiority — he  left  the  idol  behind  the  veil.  In  Hugo's  play, 
Richelieu  never  appears  in  person  ;  he  is  every  where  felt ;  he 
is  seen  nowhere ;  he  moves  all  the  wires ;  the  dramatis  per- 
sonce  arc,  by  their  own  showing,  but  the  puppets  of  his  will. 
The  other  had  his  choice  of  two  great  symbols,  Louis  XIII. 
and  Richelieu  ;  he  chose  the  king  for  the  material  image,  and 
the  cardinal  for  the  presiding  genius — the  will. 

' '  Et  que  clit  de  la  cour  le  roi  ? 
Le  carcUnal  n'est  pas  content  du  tout ! 

Le  roi  se  porte  bien  sans  doute  ? 
Non  pas  !  le  cardinal  a  la  fie\Te  ou  la  goutte." 

The  cardinal  is  the  main-spring,  the  soul  of  all  things ;  the 
very  omission  of  any  visible  presence  imparts  a  mysterious 
awe  to  the  most  seemingly  insignificant  things  overshadowed 
by  his  influence. 

But  M.  Augier  was  of  opinion  that  he  could  not  have  too 
many  great  personages  figuring  ostensibly  on  his  canvas,  and 
boldly  laid  hands  on  both — the  timid,  wavering,  passive,  mel- 
ancholy monarch,  and  liis  energetic,  iron-willed,  stern  minister. 
The  conspiracy  itself  is  a  sort  of  child's  play,  neither  exciting 
nor  interesting  ;  there  is  no  justifiable  hatred,  no  well-ground- 
ed motive ;  those  engaged  in  it  play  at  conspiracy  as  they 
would  at  lans(fienet,  merely  as  a  pastime.  Why  or  how  they 
mean  to  kill  the  cardinal,  they  do  not  seem  to  know.  None 
of  the  conspirators  are  at  all  thinking  of  their  enterprise.  The 
Duchess  de  Rohan,  who  lends  her  house  to  their  meetings,  is 
solely  thinking  of  M.  de  Pienne;  M.  de  Pienne  of  Diane ;  M. 


252  MEMOmS    OF    RACHEL. 

de  Fargy  and  M.  de  Boissy  are  little  else  than  supernumeraries. 
As  for  Marguerite's  father,  the  fourth  plotter,  he  is  a  carica- 
ture with  whom  no  man  in  his  senses  would  risk  his  head. 

In  this  second  act  we  are  at  the  duchess's  hotel,  where  all 
the  personages  save  the  king,  his  minister,  and  his  minister's 
minister,  Laffemas,  are  pi-esent.  The  duchess,  who  has  been 
solicited  by  her  god-daughter,  Margtierite,  to  interfere  to  pre- 
vent her  marriage  with  M.  de  Cruas,  to  whom  her  father  has 
promised  her,  the  duchess  tells  De  Cruas  no  gallant  gentleman 
would  wish  to  obtain  a  lady's  hand  against  her  will.  De  Cru- 
as, piqued,  replies  he  has  no  desire  to  marry  a  coureuse  de  nuit. 
Paid  sti'ikes  the  insolent  noble  across  the  face  with  his  glove. 
Here  is  an  evident  copy  of  the  second  act  of  "  Marion  De- 
lorme" — a  provocation  and  a  duel.  Even  the  name  of  Marion 
herself  is  introduced  in  the  conversation  in  very  much  the 
same  manner  as  it  is  in  Victor  Hugo's  drama. 

The  duel  takes  place  between  the  acts,  and  Paul  wounds 
or  kills  De  Cruas,  who  is  seen  no  more.  The  second  act  has 
some  excellent  scenes,  though  Mademoiselle  Diane,  in  her  anx- 
ious solicitude  for  her  brother,  shows  rather  more  knowledge 
of  the  sword-exercise  than  befits  the  character  of  a  fair  and 
modest  young  gentlewoman  in  an  age  when  women  had  not 
yet  learned  to  glory  in  the  possession  of  manly  accomplish- 
ments. There  is  something  very  ridiculous  and  unseemly  in 
this  jargon  of  the  fencing-school  issuing  from  the  rosy  lips  of 
a  true  woman. 

In  the  third  act  of  "  Diane,"  as  in  the  third  act  of  "  Marion 
Delorme,"  we  have  the  presence  of  the  cardinal's  right  hand 
— the  terrible  M.  de  Laffemas  using  his  cunning  to  worm  out 
the  secret  of  young  Paul's  retreat — hunting  the  duelists  in 
both  dramas.  M.  de  Picnne  has  concealed  the  brother  of  his 
secretly-beloved  Diane  in  a  recess  of  the  wall  in  his  own  apart- 
ment. The  sister  goes  to  see  Paul,  and  in  so  doing  compro- 
mises his  life  and  her  own  honor,  for  she  is  traced  to  De 
Pienne's  hotel  by  the  jealous  duchess  and  the  blood-hound 
Laffemas.  The  duchess  attributes  the  presence  of  Diane  to 
love  for  De  Pienne ;  the  astute  chef  de  police  draws  the  infer- 
ence that  her  brother  is  concealed  there.  Laffemas  threatens 
to  destroy  the  hotel  to  the  very  foundations,  and  Diane,  to 


MKMOIUS    OF    RACHEL.  253 

save  her  brother,  heroically  declares  she  is  De  Pienne's  mis- 
tress. 

We  will  not  cavil  at  the  forgctfulncss  of  the  author,  who 
makes  Paul  complain  to  De  Picime,  when  they  are  alone,  that 
he  can  hear  nothing  in  his  hiding-place,  and  then  shortly  after 
brings  him  out  of  it  because  he  has  heard  the  discussion,  and 
will  not  accept  his  sister's  sacrifice  of  her  good  name. 

We  have  now  reached  the  fourth  act,  in  which  the  com- 
parison between  the  two  dramas  is  unavoidable  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  In  the  one,  Marion  goes  to  solicit  her  lover's 
pardon  of  the  king ;  in  the  other,  Diane  craves  her  brothei-'s 
of  the  cardinal  minister. 

By  the  way,  when  31.  de  Pienne  says  to  Diane,  "This  is 
the  king's  closet,"  why  should  Diane  question  if  it  is  that  of 
the  King  of  France  ?     There  is  but  one  king  there. 

In  both  dramas  the  king  is  in  black,  the  king  is  sad,  the 
king  has  the  spleen. 

Diane,  from  behind  a  curtain,  witnesses  a  scene  between  the 
king  and  the  cardinal.  Struck  with  the  greatness  of  soul,  the 
vast  intellect  of  this  sole  prop  and  pillar  of  a  kingdom,  she 
determines  to  save  him  from  the  blow  that  threatens  him. 
The  time  appointed  by  the  conspirators  is  when  the  cardinal 
goes  on  a  visit  to  Monsieur,  the  king's  brother.  Diane  ab- 
ruptly exclaims,  "  Go  not  to  Monsieur's !"  When  Richelieu  in- 
quires what  prompts  her  to  warn  him,  and  why  she  seeks  to 
save  the  man  who  is  about  to  take  the  life  of  her  young  broth- 
er, she  replies  that  "  she  devotes  herself  to  the  state."  The  car- 
dinal insists  on  knowing  the  particulars,  who  ?  how  ?  when  ? 
where  ?  why  ?  Her  brother's  head  is  to  be  the  forfeit  if  she 
refuses  to  betray  the  names  of  the  conspirators.  In  the  end, 
the  minister  relents,  and  grants  the  young  man's  pardon  with- 
out condition  ;  but  he  is  no  less  determined  to  find  out  what 
he  wants  to  know  some  other  way. 

In  the  fifth  act  Paul  marries  Marguerite.  The  Duchess  de 
Rohan,  still  jealous  of  Diane,  breaks  open  a  will  made  by  De 
Pienne  when  in  danger  of  losing  his  head,  and  finds  out  what 
Diane  herself  has  hitherto  ignored,  his  love  for  the  latter. 
Every  obstacle  is  destroyed  ;  the  lovers  are  going  to  be  happy, 
when  the  terrible  mar-joy,  Laffemas,  comes  in  and  sets  all 


254  MEMOIKS    OF    EACHEL. 

wrong  again.  Diane,  frightened  by  the  black  looks  of  the 
cardinal's  emissary,  guesses  his  errand,  and,  to  save  De  Pienne, 
declares  he  is  indifferent  to  her — she  does  not  love  him — she'll 
take  her  share  of  life's  happiness  in  the  love  of  her  brother's 
children : 

"  Je  vais  etre  grand  mere  !" 

A  lame  and  impotent  conclusion. 

Sum  total :  Very  little  love-making — very  little  ambition 
— no  powerful  passions — a  pale  reflection  of  Victor  Hugo's 
genius. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  wore  a  costume  designed  by  Meisson- 
nier  with  the  faithfulness  and  good  taste  that  distinguishes 
that  painter.  But,  however  elegant  her  dress,  it  was  not 
nearly  as  becoming  to  the  actress  as  her  antique  draperies,  or 
even  the  fanciful  and  rich  dress  of  the  Venetian  courtesan, 
Tisbe.  Two  or  three  of  the  passages  of  this  rule,  so  very  un- 
suited  to  her  style,  were  spoken  with  her  grand  energy  and  pas- 
sion, but  there  was  no  room  for  her  powers.  She  was  cramped 
and  evidently  out  of  her  sphere  in  this  tame,  unmeaning  frame- 
work. 

On  the  6tli  of  May  Mademoiselle  Rachel  made  another  un- 
fruitful excursion  in  the  domains  of  Mademoiselle  Mars.  She 
appeared  in  the  great  comedienne's  creation  of  "  Louise  de 
Lignerolles."  This  drama  in  five  acts,  the  joint  production 
of  Messrs.  Prosper  Dimaux  and  Ernest  Legouve,  was  first 
brought  out  in  1838,  and  was  very  successful.  The  revival 
by  Rachel  this  year  was  hardly  noticed  by  the  press,  so  com- 
plete was  her  failure. 

Her  summer  conge  was  marked  by  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
triumphs  of  her  career.  She  had  been  invited  by  the  King 
of  Prussia  to  visit  his  court,  and,  although  sufi'ering  from  a 
painful  nervous  affection  that  left  her  no  I'est,  she  resolved 
to  achieve  the  journey. 

It  required  no  less  than  the  determined  will,  of  which  Ra- 
chel had  given  so  many  proofs  in  conquering  fatigue  on  for- 
mer occasions,  to  carry  her  through  on  this  one.  This  illness 
was,  with  the  exception  of  the  one  of  which  she  died,  the  most 
severe  she  ever  had.  Deprived  of  sleep,  of  appetite,  consumed 
by  a  slow  fever,  troubled  with   fearful    hallucinations,  that 


MEMOIRS    OP    RACHEL.  2o5 

brought  with  them  suicidal  ideas,  she  arrived  in  Brussels  com- 
pletely exhausted.  Yet,  notwithstanding  this  prostration  of 
mind  and  body,  she  played  with  even  more  than  her  usual  ani- 
mation and  fire,  sustained  by  a  feverish  and  dangerous  nervous 
excitement,  which  imparted  a  momentary  power,  for  which 
she  paid  dearly  when  the  play  was  over.  Great  would  have 
been  the  terror  and  admiration  of  the  uninitiated  spectator, 
who,  after  witnessing  one  of  the  performances  that  electrified 
her  audiences,  could  have  seen  her,  the  Circe,  but  a  moment 
before  so  powerful,  so  imperious,  so  fascinating,  now  so  ex- 
hausted, so  breathless,  so  nearly  lifeless,  carried  off  in  the 
arms  of  her  maids  to  the  sleepless  bed  she  was  to  leave  but  to 
be  brought  back  to  make  the  same  efforts  with  a  like  result. 

In  one  of  the  too  numerous  letters  she  either  dictated  or 
wrote,  Kachel  herself  mentions  this  state  of  over-excitement. 

"  The  public,  the  foot-lights,  Father  Corneille,  and  even  my 
own  costume,  impart  a  fictitious  strength  which  enables  me 
to  act  my  part ;  that  done,  I  am  again  powerless,  and  often 
remain  sunk  in  melancholy  until  the  next  performance." 

It  was  under  such  disheartening  circumstances  that  she 
gave  four  performances  in  Brussels.  While  there,  a  circum- 
stance occurred  which  was  to  rescue  her  from  this  terrible 
state  of  suffering.  The  elder  Count  Lehon  spoke  to  her  in 
such  high  terms  of  a  doctor  who  had  effected  an  extraordinary 
cure  in  the  case  of  one  of  his  relatives,  that  Rachel,  though 
almost  hopeless  of  relief,  consented  to  see  him.  M.  Varlez; 
was  a  homoeopathic  physician  too,  and  the  tragedienne  had,  on 
a  former  occasion,  experienced  great  benefit  from  the  pre- 
scription of  one  of  his  confreres.  After  a  thorough  examina- 
tion of  the  case,  the  disciple  of  Hahnemann  undertook  the  cure, 
if  the  invalid  Avould  promise  the  strictest  observance  of  his 
injunctions.  The  mode  of  communication  being  settled,  she 
continued  her  journey.  A  friend  who  Avas  with  her  had  un- 
dertaken to  write  and  forward  to  M.  Varlez  daily  and  circum- 
stantial bulletins  of  the  symptoms  and  effect  of  the  treatment 
to  which  she  Avas  subjected.  The  physician  returned  minute 
instructions  and  prescriptions. 

This  singular  treatment  by  post  eventually  effected  a  cure, 
though  the  progress  toward  it  was  slow.     There  was  even  at 


25.6  iviEMOms  OF  eacuel. 

Aix-la-ChapcUe  so  severe  a  crisis,  predicted,  however,  by  the 
doctor,  that  her  Ufe  was  thought  in  danger. 

The  intended  journey  to  Berlin  was  countermanded,  and  the 
tragedienne  requested  to  go  to  Potsdam. 

Tliis  change  in  her  movements  gave  rise  to  the  most  absurd 
conjectures ;  a  poUtical  mystery  was  attached  to  that  which 
had  the  most  simple  and  natural  explanation.  The  real  cause 
was  the  shortness  of  sojourn  the  Empress  of  Russia  was  to 
make  in  her  brother's  dominions,  and  the  state  of  her  majes- 
ty's health,  which  precluded  her  enduring  the  fatigue  of  pub- 
lic/etes  and  receptions.  It  had,  therefore,  been  decided  that 
whatever  amusement  was  procured  for  the  illustrious  invalid 
should  be  enjoyed  enfamille  in  the  retirement  of  the  royal 
residence. 

On  the  8th  of  July  Rachel  gave  her  first  performance  in 
the  new  palace  of  Potsdam,  appearing,  as  usual,  in  Camille. 

On  her  aiTival  at  the  palace,  whither  she  had  been  sum- 
moned early,  the  tragedienne  found  a  sumptuous  dinner  await- 
ing her.  With  a  view  to  her  honor,  it  had  been  arranged 
that  the  scenic  queen  should  dine  only  with  such  of  her  at- 
taches as  she  chose  to  invite,  while  the  secondary  personages, 
the  small-fry  of  confidants,  traitors,  second-hand  heroes,  &c., 
&c.,  were  fed  at  a  separate  table.  But  Rachel  had  the  good 
taste  to  say  she  could  not  admit  of  such  distinctions,  adding 
that  on  the  eve  of  a  great  battle  a  good  general  should  mess 
with  his  soldiers. 

As  the  performance  was  to  take  place  late  in  the  evening, 
one  of  the  royal  carriages  was  placed  at  the  tragedienne's  dis- 
posal, and  the  king's  reader  accompanied  her  on  an  excursion 
round  the  chateau  of  Sans  Souci.  In  the  course  of  the  drive 
she  met  the  Crown  Prince  and  Prince  Fre'derick  of  the  Iseth- 
erlands,  who  were  profuse  in  their  compliments. 

In  the  evening,  Camille,  elate  with  hope  and  pride,  played 
with  all  the  energy  of  which  she  was  capable,  and  was  greatly 
admired.  She  was  presented,  by  desire  of  her  majesty,  to  the 
Empress  of  Russia,  who  graciously  said,  "I  have  often  re- 
gretted, mademoiselle,  the  etiquette  that  forbids  external  to- 
kens of  approbation ;  but,  had  it  been  otherwise,  to-day  we 
could  not  have  applauded,  so  great  was  our  emotion."     The 


MEMOIRS   OP   KACUEL.  257 

King  of  Prussia  was  equally  courteous,  and  all  present  seemed 
greatly  pleased. 

A  few  days  after,  the  Emperor  Nicholas  arrived  at  Pots- 
dam, where  he  was  to  remain  but  two  days,  the  last  of  which, 
the  13th  of  Jul}-,  was  the  birth-day  of  the  empress.  The 
weather  being  too  warm  to  permit  of  any  enjoyment  in  salotis 
blazing  with  lights,  it  was  an-anged  that  the  little  fete  should 
take  place  in  the  open  air,  and  that  the  tragedienne  should 
there  give  readings  from  her  chief  rules  before  the  imperial  and 
royal  families  and  their  suites.  The  scene  chosen  was  the 
pretty  little  Isle  of  Peacocks.  She  gave  several  scenes  from , 
"Virginie,"  and  all  the  second  act  of  "Phedre,"  and  scenes 
from  "  Adrienne  Lecouvreur."  Her  auiiust  audience  of  crown- 
ed  heads  testified  enthusiastic  approbation.  The  emperor  as- 
sured the  tragedienne  that  she  was  greater  even  than  her  repu- 
tation, and  hoped  she  would  give  him  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
her  next  in  his  own  dominions.  A  hint  of  this  invitation  had 
already  been  dropped  by  the  empress.  It  will  be  seen  that 
the  rendezvous  was  not  forgotten  on  either  side. 

The  Czar,  when  speaking  of  the  tragedienne,  was  standing 
before  her  chair.  On  her  attempting  to  rise,  he  remarked 
that  her  exertions  must  have  fatigued  her,  and  desired  her  to 
remain  seated.  On  her  respectfully  insisting,  he  took  both 
her  hands  and  gently  held  her  down,  saying,  "  Bemain,  made- 
moiselle, I  beg,  unless  you  wish  me  to  retire." 

Such  kindness  and  condescension  from  such  quartei'S  was 
sufficient  to  turn  wiser  and  steadier  heads  than  that  of  the 
young  artiste  whom  talent  had  ennobled.  But,  in  relating  the 
events  of  this  proud  day  to  the  member  of  the  press  by  whom 
it  was  intended  they  should  be  repeated  to  the  public,  Eachel 
made  a  remark  that  was  altogether  false.  She  wrote  that 
"  never  had  one  person  been  spoken  to  by  so  many  emperors, 
kings,  princes,  and  princesses  as  she  had  been."  Mademoi- 
selle Eachel,  elate  with  very  pardonable  vanity,  forgot  that 
Talma,  Madame  Catalani,  and  other  artists  of  distinguished 
merit  had  been  treated  with  equal  consideration  by  many 
crowned  heads.  Talma  was  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the 
greatest  man  that  ever  wore  an  imperial  tiara,  on  a  footing 
of  familiar  intercourse  that  testified  the  personal  esteem  iu 


258  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

which  he  was  held,  and  which  was  far  more  flattering  than  a 
few  passing  compliments. 

On  the  14th  Kachel  performed  in  Potsdam  "  Phedre"  and 
"Le  Moineau  de  Lesbie."  After  the  performance  the  king 
sent  her,  by  the  Comte  de  Redern,  his  chamberlain,  20,000 
francs,  a  very  munificent  present,  especially  as  the  large  Opera 
House  at  Berlin  had  been  granted  to  her  free  of  expense  for 
six  nights,  and  as  she  also  had  all  the  receipts.  The  Emperor 
of  Russia  sent,  through  his  aid-de-camp,  Count  Orlofifs,  sub- 
stantial tokens  of  his  approbation  in  the  shape  of  two  magnifi- 
cent opals,  surrounded  with  diamonds,  which  the  recipient 
immediately  estimated  at  their  pecuniaiy  wox'th  at  10,000 
francs.  Other  private  persons  followed  the  royal  example, 
and  presents  and  dinners  marked  each  day  of  her  stay. 

From  Potsdam  she  resumed  her  tour,  passing  through  Frank- 
fort, Wiesbaden,  Metz,  Colmar,  and  Nancy,  playing  every  where, 
tliough  unable  to  stand  when  off  the  stage,  and  traveUng  from 
place  to  place  in  a  bed  fitted  up  in  the  carriage. 

At  Strasbourg  she  suffered  another  severe  crisis,  less  alarm- 
ing, however,  than  that  which  overtook  her  in  Aix-la-Chapelle. 
The  Princess  of  Prussia  and  the  Grand-Duchess  Stephanie  of 
Baden  having  invited  her  to  come  to  them,  she  conquered  in- 
disposition and  fatigue  in  order  to  reap  the  advantages  com- 
phance  would  bring.  A  flattering  reception,  a  magnificent 
bracelet,  and  10,000  francs  in  gold  rewarded  the  effort.  Dr. 
Varlez  had  advised  she  should  eo  to  St.  Schlangenbad  for  the 
sake  of  the  air  there,  and  especially  for  the  solitude  and  rest 
of  which  she  was  so  much  in  need.  She  attempted  to  follow 
this  advice,  but,  not  fancying  the  place,  returned  to  Brussels, 
where  she  actually  remained  a  whole  fortnight  without  leav- 
ing the  house.  She  was  so  much  benefited  by  this  forced  se- 
clusion and  the  treatment  she  pursued  that  she  was  enabled 
to  return  to  Paris  on  the  18th  of  August.  She  immediately 
repaired  to  her  villa  at  Montmorency,  and  there  continued  for 
some  time  the  severe  regimen  prescribed,  one  of  the  chief 
points  of  which  was  the  most  absolute  repose  of  mind  and 
body.  When  the  physician  at  last  permitted  her  to  play,  it 
was  only  such  parts  as  Emilie  in  "Cinna,"  Pauline  in  "Poly- 
eucte" — the  mildest  doses  of  the  Cornelian  pharmacopoeia. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  259 

Phedre  and  Camille  were  as  strictly  forbidden  as  coffee  and 
spices. 

The  result  of  this  treatment  was  the  entire  disappearance 
of  all  the  fatal  symptoms  ;  a  new  lease  of  life  had  been  ob- 
tained, and  her  physician  has  the  consciousness  of  having  pro- 
longed this  indefatigable  artiste's  existence  five  years. 

In  October  she  was  reputed  entirely  cured,  and  prepared  to 
undertake  new  creations.  A  role  of  "  Aspasie,"  a  tragedy  in 
two  acts  by  Sanson,  was  studied  by  her,  but  never  played ; 
*' Rosemonde,"  Avhich  she  undertook  several  years  later,  was 
even  talked  of  then. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

1853. 


"Lady  Tartuffe." — Short  Summer  Excursion. — An  obliging  Manager. 
— Engagement  in  Russia. — Permission  of  the  Emperor,  the  Minister 
of  State,  and  the  Comedie  Francais  countersigned  by  M.  Legouve. — 
A  di])lomatic  Letter. — The  Author  and  the  Actress. — Friendly  Cor- 
respondence.— "Medee"  asked  for;  " Medee"  written ;  "Medee" 
read ;  "  Medee"  revised  and  corrected ;  "  Medee"  approved,  received, 
rehearsed;  "Medee"  put  away  for  another  day. — Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel in  St.  Petersburg. — State  of  Theatricals  in  Russia. — A  Witty 
Reply. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  appeared  in  the  part  of  Madame 
de  Girardin's  "Lady  Tartuffe"  on  the  14th  of  February,  1853. ' 
This  proved  one  of  her  best  creationj?  in  comedy,  though  she 
herself  never  fancied  the  role. 

The  heroine  is  a  JMademoiselle  de  Blossac,  who,  having  reached 
the  age  of  thirty  without  changing  her  name,  follows  the  fash- 
ion of  single  ladies,  who,  in  the  summer  of  their  existence,  feel 
justified  in  adopting  the  title  of  "Madame."  jMadame,  who 
leads  a  retired,  respectable  life,  has  met,  while  on  some  char- 
itable excursion,  the  Duke  cVEstigny,  a  Marshal  of  France  and 
ex-embassador,  who,  fascinated  by  the  lady's  apparent  virtues, 
lodges  her  at  once  in  his  house  and  heart — that  is,  he  begins 
by  the  offer  of  an  apartment  in  his  hotel,  and  ends  by  that  of 
his  hand.  In  the  marshal's  hotel  there  are  two  other  female 
inmates — his  niece,  the  widowed  Countess  de  Clairmont,  and  her 


,200  MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL. 

daughter  Jeanne,  fifteen  years  old,  very  pretty,  and  endowed 
with  a  naivete,  a  simplicity  perfectly  extraordinary  in  the  pres- 
ent ao-e.  Between  the  widow  and  the  aspirant  to  tlie  mar- 
shal's hand,  heart,  and  titles,  there  is  from  the  very  beginning 
a  feud,  Avhich,  though  at  first  covert,  subdued,  and  manifested 
only  in  asides  and  little  skirmishes — a  sort  of  war  in  the  bush 

guerrilla  encounters,  where   the  blows  are  none  the  less 

deadly  because  the  arm  is  concealed — ends  in  an  open  fight,  a 
pitched  battle,  in  which,  though  the  cause  of  virtue  is  appa- 
rently triumphant,  it  is,  in  fact,  hard  to  tell  who  has  the  best 
of  it,  and  the  leaders  on  both  sides  are  damaged. 

The  old  marshal  is  a  noble-hearted  man,  prone  to  place  im- 
plicit belief  in  those  who  have  his  good  opinion,  pleased  with 
what  looks  innocent,  good,  and  affectionate,  and  with  no  other 
failing,  even  if  that  may  be  called  one,  than  the  inclination  to 
relate  incidents  of  his  mihtary  and  diplomatic  career.  The 
other  personages  are  more  or  less  useful  accessories.  There  is 
a  Baron  de  Tourhieres,  a  sort  of  factotum  of  Madame  de  Blos- 
sac,  who  saves  her  interests  in  the  beginning  because  she  has 
loaned  him  20,000  francs,  and  who  betrays  her  as  soon  as  he 
has  found  one  of  her  enemies  willing  to  lend  him  that  sum  to 
repay  her.  This  person,  whose  virtue,  as  he  himself  tells  us, 
is  a  marketable  commodity — 

"  O  vei-tu,  tu  vaux  de  Tor !" — 
is  certainly  a  far  more  odious  creature  than  Madame  de  Blos- 
sac;  besides  which,  he  is,  in  truth,  quite  a  supernumerary  in 
the  play,  being  without  importance,  interest,  or  avocation  in 
it.  He  undertakes  to  advance  her  cause  with  the  marshal  in 
the  expectation  that  as  Madame  la  Marechal  she  vriW  possess 
sufficient  interest  to  procure  him  the  post  o^  ^irefet  or  that  of 
receveur  general;  but  this  busy  person  does  nothing  that  she 
could  not  have  accomplished  without  him,  and  in  the  mean 
while  taunts  and  insults  her  with  impunity  because  he  has  a 
secret  of  hers  which  may  ruin  her  reputation. 

The  lover  of  Jeanne,  young  Henri,  is  of  himself  rather  an  in- 
significant personage  ;  but,  as  it  happens,  lie  was  the  intimate 
friend  of  a  former  lover  of  Madame  de  Blossac's.  Five  years 
ago.  Mademoiselle  Blossac,  then  on  a  visit  to  some  English  man- 
sion, appointed  a  meeting  in  a  pavilion  with  her  then  lover, 


MEMOIRS   OF    KACHEL.  261 

who  was  supposed  by  the  other  members  of  the  family  to  have 
gone  out  hunting.  The  pair  was  suddenly  disturbed  by  the 
return  of  a  real  hunting  party,  and  in  danger  of  a  discovery. 
The  lover,  to  save  the  lady's  reputation,  leaps  from  the  win- 
dow, and  in  doing  so  springs  the  trigger  of  his  gun.  He  is 
severely  wounded,  but  his  cold-hearted  mistress,  anxious  to 
save  her  good  name,  heeds  not  his  groans,  and  leaves  him  to 
die  without  aid.  But  a  fortuitous  circumstance  reveals  to  one 
person  at  least  her  presence  in  the  pavilion,  where  she  had 
dropped  her  bouquet  of  heather.  Since  that  fatal  day  she  is 
yearly  reminded  of  it  by  the  envoi,  on  its  anniversary,  of  a  bou- 
quet of  heather  sent  by  an  unknown  hand. 

There  is  an  excellent  scene  in  the  first  act ;  unfortunately, 
it  is  but  too  faithful  a  representation  of  that  which  is  daily 
passing  in  society,  where  reputations  are  slain  with  the  most 
inoffensive-looking  weapons.  Several  members  of  a  charitable 
society  are  assembled  in  Madame  de  JSlossac's  salon  to  discuss 
ways  and  means  for  the  advancement  of  the  interests  of  that 
society.  The  praise  of  the  hostess,  her  piety  and  charity,  form 
the  chief  theme  of  conversation  until  the  entrance  of  the  Coun- 
tess de  Clahinont  and  her  daughter.  The  countess  says  at  once 
she  is  not  brought  there  by  her  own  will.  She  comes  deputed 
by  her  uncle  to  announce  her  daughter's  marriage,  and  invite 
Madame  de  Blossac  to  join  the  family,  who  are  that  evening 
to  celebrate  the  betrothals  in  the  apartments  of  the  marshal. 
Here  Madame  de  Blossac  learns  that  the  intended  husband  is 
Henri  de  Rennevelle,  the  man  whom  for  five  years  she  has  se- 
cretly but  passionately  loved.  The  shock  is  terrible.  She 
seeks  to  avert  it  by  preventing  the  marriage,  and  resorts  for 
that  purpose  to  the  usual  feminine  weapon,  calumny.  The 
scene  is  terribly  true  to  the  life. 

The  poisoned  arrow  has  sped  to  its  destination.  Monsieur 
de  St.  Yrieux,  one  of  the  persons  present,  is  a  friend  of  the  Iicn- 
nevelle  family ;  he  thinks  it  a  duty  to  warn  them  of  the  stain 
on  Jeanne^s  character,  and  the  result  may  be  anticipated. 
This  first  act  is  very  skillfully  written  ;  the  dialogue  is  lively 
and  witty ;  the  characters  are  well  drawn ;  the  scene  of  the 
slander,  so  delicately  insinuated,  is  particularly  good. 

The  second  and  third  acts  are  taken  up  with  the  sad  conse- 


262  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

quences  of  the  evil  reports  on  poor  little  Jeanne.  The  scene 
where  the  amours  between  Madame  de  Blossac  and  the  marshal 
are  carried  on,  and  in  which  the  lady  makes  considerable  prog- 
ress toward  the  accomplishment  of  her  aim — that  of  the  open 
rupture  between  the  countess  and  her  foe,  during  which  the 
former  exhibits  a  violence  that  contrasts  with  the  mild  dignity 
of  her  subtle  antagonist,  are  Avell  writteu,  full  of  animation 
and  interest.  Madame  de  Blossac  is  warmly  supported  by  the 
enamored  old  marshal,  who  closes  his  doors  on  his  x-elatives, 
and  announces  his  marriage  with  their  victim. 

In  the  fourth  act  we  have  the  vindication  of  Jeanne.     But  it 
does  not  suffice  that  she  be  proved  pure  in  the  eyes  of  the  fam- 
ily circle ;  she  must  be  so  in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  and  that 
is  a  far  more  difficult  matter.     Henri,  who  has  recognized  in 
the  common  foe  the  Madame  de  Blossac  whose  egotism  caused 
the  death  of  his  friend,  and  to  whom  he  yearly  sends  the  fatal 
reminder,  lays  a  plot  to  dishonor  her  in  the  opinion  of  the 
world — not  a  very  delicate  proceeding  on  the  part  of  this  hon- 
est young  man  ;  but  the  tables  are  on  the  point  of  being  turned 
upon  him.     He  appoints  a  rendezvous  at  his  own  rooms,  Ho- 
tel Wagram,  to  hear  her  promised  communication.     The  lady 
gives  him  the  history  of  her  long-concealed  love  for  him,  a  love 
anterior  to  her  intrigue  with  his  friend ;  his  indifference  mad- 
dened and  drove  her  to  endeavor,  by  flirting  with  another,  to 
forget  him.     The  narrative  of  this  pure  affection  watching 
over  him  so  many  years  with  untiring  solicitude,  the  fascina- 
tion of  the  siren's  voice,  the  magic  charm  of  her  eye,  her  frank 
avowal  of  former  errors,  her  resolve  to  live  another  life,  to  be 
what  she  has  hitherto  affected  only,  and  that  for  his  sake,  her 
disinterestedness — for  she  asks  no  return — all  these  have  their 
effect,  and  cause  the  young  man  to  reflect  on  the  meanness  of 
his  own  conduct  in  drawing  a  woman  into  an  ambush.     He  ia 
on  the  point  of  endeavoring  to  disentangle  her  from  the  net 
he  himself  had  cast  around  her,  when  the  countess,  the  mar- 
shal, and  the  Baron  dcs  Tourbieres,  whom  he  had  concealed  in 
an  adjoining  room  to  witness  her  defeat,  break  in  and  seek — 
two  of  them,  at  least — to  shame  her. 

The  scene  between  Henri  and  Madame  de  Blossac  is  forced 
and  unnatural.     Never  would  a  clever  woman,  such  as  she  is 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  263 

described,  play  such  a  part  or  run  such  a  risk.  But  the  closing 
scene  is  excellent ;  the  disgraced,  betrayed,  and  foiled  woman 
is  so  energetic,  so  true  to  herself,  so  courageous  amid  the 
wreck  of  her  long-cherished  hopes,  that  it  is  hard  to  tell  on 
which  side  the  victory  lies — the  marshal's  last  words — 

"Poor  woman,  they  arc  all  against  her!" — 

clearly  evince  that  over  him,  at  least,  Madame  de  Blossac  will 
soon  regain  her  empire.  As  for  the  main  point  sought  by  the 
conspirators  against  Madame  de  Blossac — the  rehabilitation  of 
Jeanne  in  the  opinion  of  the  public — we  can  not  see  but  what 
it  is  as  far  off  as  ever.  Jeanne  herself  comes  in  all  alone  at 
the  end  of  the  play,  exclaiming  that  she  has  been  seeking  her 
mother  every  where.  Her  presence  was  needed  for  the  tableau 
finale,  the  joining  of  the  lovers'  hands  and  the  blessing  asked 
by  De  Tourhicres,  but  it  docs  seem  rather  strange  that  she 
should  leave  her  home  unattended  to  seek  her  mother  in  Hen- 
ries apartment,  Hotel  Wagram ! 

It  has  been  said,  and  with  gi-eat  truth,  that  a  dramatic 
work  is  the  greatest  of  all  literary  efforts.  It  is  rare,  indeed, 
that  a  play  is  written  that  combines  every  requisite.  When 
the  chief  character  is  powerfully  drawn,  the  other  personages 
are  weak  and  foulty.  At  times,  every  thing  is  sacrificed  to  a 
few  scenes,  rendered  effective  by  the  most  improbable  absurd- 
ities ;  at  others,  brilliancy  of  style  and  superabundance  of  de- 
tail, like  regal  garments  thrown  over  a  skeleton,  merely  serve 
to  conceal  the  poverty  of  the  idea  and  the  meagreness  of  the 
subject.  For  one  or  two  successful  and  really  good  plays 
that  now  and  then  surprise  the  public,  how  innumerable  arc 
the  failures ! 

Madame  de  Girardin,  when  she  attempted  tragedy,  mistook 
her  vocation,  as  "  Judith"  and  "  Cleopatre"  amply  testified. 
But  in  "  Lady  Tartuffe"  and  "  La  Joie  Fait  Peur"  she  proved 
herself  possessed  of  all  the  elements  required  to  excel  as  a 
writer  of  comedy — of  the  real  French  comedy,  the  honor  of 
inventing  which  reverts  to  La  Chaussce. 

If  comedy  be,  indeed,  the  representation  of  the  incidents 
and  habits  of  familiar  life,  Moliere  himself  overlooked  a  por- 
tion of  its  domain. 


264  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

The  poet  calls  human  nature  a  "  pendulum  between  a  smile 
and  a  tear,"  and  this  is  the  true  view  that  comedy  must  take ; 
this  was  the  view  taken  of  it  by  La  Chaussee :  to  have  en- 
larged or  cultivated  the  tract  he  opened  is  a  glorious  progress. 
At  the  present  day  we  may  well  wonder  that  he  who  first 
embodied  this  appreciation  of  life  should  have  been  sneered  at. 

To  the  old  detractors  of  La  Chaussee  Madame  de  Girardin 
opposed  the  triumphant  reputation  of  her  talent — an  indispu- 
table authority.  She  was  well  aware  that  smiles  and  tears 
were  the  two  poles  of  the  human  heart,  at  times  brought  to- 
gether by  a  violent  shock,  and  in  "La  Joie  Fait  Peur"  she 
chose  the  subject  most  susceptible  of  being  put  upon  the  stage. 
We  often  hear  the  phrase  of  "  to  laugh  until  you  cry,"  and 
there  is  no  sadder  species  of  insanity  than  that  produced  by 
extreme  grief,  and  which  betrays  itself  by  violent  fits  of  laugh- 
ter. What  was  peculiarly  her  own,  that  which  specially  con- 
stituted Madame  de  Girardin's  originality,  was  the  skillful 
manner  in  which  she  elFected  a  transition  between  those  two 
extremes  of  feeling.  She  was  well  acquainted  with  the  chords 
of  the  instrument,  and  succeeded  in  charming  her  readers  or 
her  audience  without  agitating  them  with  too  violent  an  emo- 
tion, or  giving  too  great  a  shock  to  the  nervous  system. 

"  Lady  TartufFe"  was  not,  perhaps,  as  pleasing  or  as  cor- 
rect a  work  as  "  La  Joie  Fait  Peur."  The  author  was  pro- 
gressing in  a  department  of  dramatic  art  in  which  she  would 
have  reached  perfection  had  her  life  been  spared,  and  "  Lady 
Tartufie"  was  younger  by  a  year  than  her  more  successful 
play.  It  betokens  too  hurried  an  execution.  The  plot  is, 
perhaps,  too  intricate  ;  there  is  much  to  be  pruned — much 
that  needed  more  delicate  a  finish.  Some  of  the  speeches  are 
too  long,  and  weary  the  audience ;  while  the  result,  which  has 
been  laboriously  sought  among  a  crowd  of  incidents,  proves 
imsatisfactory.  Still,  with  all  its  faults,  "  Lady  TartufFe"  is 
a  type  belonging  to  the  authoress,  and  which,  had  she  re- 
modeled it,  would  have  proved  an  excellent  comedy. 

The  worst  fault  of  this  jilay  was  its  title,  a  title  plainly  in- 
dicating the  intentioii  of  the  author,  but  one  as  mistaken  as 
it  was  bqjd,  for  it  is  in  no  way  justified  by  the  heroine.  It  is 
the  flourish  of  trumpets  announcing  the  entrance  into  the  lists 


MEMOIXtS    OF    RACIlKr..  265 

with  Moliere  of  a  new  candidate — an  attempt  to  compete 
where  competition  was  sure  to  entail  failure — to  imitate  whei'e 
any  imitation  must  prove  a  caricature.  Bcaumarchais  him- 
self committed  this  mistake  when  he  allowed  the  "NcwTar- 
tuffe"  to  appear  on  the  playbills ;  but  even  this  daring  genius 
disavowed  his  presumptuous  pretensions,  and  changed  the  ti- 
tle to  that  of  the  "  Guilty  Mother." 

As  for  a,  female  Tartaffc,  thank  heaven  no  such  being  ever 
existed.  Moliere's  demon  is  a  complete  fiend,  without  a  sin- 
gle redeeming  point,  and  such  a  one  could  never  find  a  lodg- 
ing in  a  female  heart.  In  the  "Lady  TartufFe"  of  Madame 
de  Girardin  there  are  flashes  of  repentance — there  is  love.  In 
the  "TartufFe"  of  Moliere  there  could  be  neither.  Kepent- 
ance  of  itself  washes  away  much  sin,  and  where  real  love  ex- 
ists for  a  worthy  object  it  regenerates  the  most  en*ing  nature : 
Madame  de  Blossac  herself  tell  us  so.  Tartuffe  never  felt  one 
moment's  repentance,  and  the  passion  Elimire  had  excited  in 
him  deserves  quite  another  name  than  that  of  love. 

Mademoiselle  Rachel  made  a  conscientious  study  of  this  role, 
and  though,  as  we  have  several  times  had  occasion  to  remark, 
very  inferior  in  comedy  to  what  she  was  in  her  own  t'epertoire, 
she  played  the  character  in  the  most  creditable  manner.  This 
was  the  more  meritorious,  as  she  disliked  the  part  exceeding- 
ly. The  finesse,  the  covert,  subtle,  subdued  style  required  to 
play  the  female  hypocrite,  were  the  opposites  of  the  grand, 
bold,  daring  passions  of  tragedy,  and  could  not  be  natural  in 
Mademoiselle  Rachel.  What  added  greatly  to  the  attraction 
was  that  Sanson,  her  professor,  took  the  part  of  the  old  mar- 
shal, and  their  perfect  understanding,  long  habit  of  studying 
together,  and  knowledge  of  each  other's  powers  produced  a 
result  nearly  amounting  to  perfection. 

Still,  though  she  played  it  well,  and  the  play  found  favor 
with  the  public,  the  first  night  had  well-nigh  proved  fatal  to 
it.  The  authoress,  indeed,  was  so  greatly  disappointed  that 
she  wished  to  leave  the  theatre  without  speaking  to  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel,  under  pretense  of  emotion.  M.  Regnier  endeav- 
oi'ed  to  persuade  her  to  the  contrary,  but  for  some  little  time 
his  efforts  were  vain.  "  No,"  exclaimed  the  vexed  authoress, 
*'  I  can  not  see  her ;  she  has  played  wretchedly !" 

M 


266  MEMOIES    OF    RACHEL. 

Finally,  she  allowed  herself  to  be  conducted  to  the  artiste's 
dressing-room,  and  a  few  cold  words  were  exchanged. 

"  You  are  not  pleased,"  said  Rachel. 

"  JVimjiorie,  with  you  I  am  sure  to  succeed,"  replied  Mad- 
ame de  Girardin. 

This  year  it  was  announced  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel  that 
she  intended  to  devote  the  summer  co7ige  to  repose,  in  order  to 
be  able,  with  recruited  strength  and  energy,  to  perform  the 
duties  of  her  autumnal  and  winter  season.  She  intended  this, 
it  was  said,  as  a  refutation  of  the  charges  that  had  been 
brought  against  her  by  the  management  at  the  time  of  the 
lawsuit  with  the  Theatre  Frangais. 

It  Tuight  be  that  she  needed  rest,  for  during  the  spring  sea- 
son, while  she  was  acting  Ladi/  Tartuffe  at  the  Theatre  Fran- 
(jais,  she  was  playing  on  the  off  nights  in  the  Departments. 
Thus,  during  the  whole  of  March,  she  spent  her  days  in  the 
railways,  and  nights  acting  in  Amiens,  Orleans,  Tours,  going 
even  as  far  as  Nantes,  and  yet  performing  twice  a  week  in 
Paris !  She  called  this  resting,  because  she  was  not  perma- 
nently away  from  the  capital.  She  was  charmed  by  M.  Ar- 
sene  Houssaye's  compliance  with  her  wishes  regarding  these 
excursions. 

"  C'est  il  gentil  de  M.  Ploussaye  de  me  laisser  faire  cela, 
car  il  pourrait  me  le  defcndre !"  she  would  exclaim,  in  the 
exuberance  of  her  gratitude. 

She  did  not,  indeed,  prolong  her  summer  conge  abroad  over 
six  weeks,  during  which  she  played  in  London,  Brussels,  An- 
gers, Liege,  and  Saumur.  Contrary  to  her  expectations,  she 
had  no  houses.  This  was  probably  owing  to  her  having  visit- 
ed these  towns  too  often,  and  the  provinces  can  not  bear  re- 
peated drains  like  capitals  constantly  recruited  by  foreign 
visitors.  At  all  events,  Rachel,  as  was  her  wont  when  she 
wished  to  hide  her  disappointment,  feigned  sudden  illness  and 
returned  to  Paris,  though  she  was  expected  in  La  Haye.  It 
was  then  she  announced  her  intention  to  repose  during  the 
remainder  of  the  conge.  How  far  she  was  sincere  in  her  re- 
solve to  recruit  for  the  benefit  of  the  Theatre  Francais  will 
appear  by  the  use  she  made  of  her  renewed  strength.  The 
summer  was  spent  in  active  negotiations  to  obtain  a  most 


MEMOIES    OF   RACHEL.  267 

lucrative  engagement  that  had  long  been  anxiously  desired  by 
Mademoiselle  Kachel,  and  which  was  finally  obtained  at  the 
expense  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais. 

It  must  be  owned  that,  though  not  over  scrupulous  as  to 
the  means  she  used,  the  great  ti-agedtenne  possessed  a  quality 
for  which  artistes  are  not  often  distinguished — she  was  an  ex- 
cellent woman  'for  business.  She  never  lost  sight  of  what  to 
her  was  the  main  point. 

In  the  beginning  of  September  it  was  rumored  that  she  was 
going  to  spend  the  winter  in  Russia.  St.  Petersburg  had  not 
yet  paid  the  tribute  of  gold  and  laurels  she  had  obtained  in 
almost  every  European  capital.  Eachel  reflected  that  she 
had  no  time  to  lose  if  she  wished  to  levy  her  tax.  The  East- 
ern question  was  becoming  so  complicated  that  a  war  was  in- 
evitable, and  hostilities  were  expected  to  break  out  in  the 
spring.  If  she  delayed,  the  rubles  were  lost  to  her.  All  the 
wires  of  dramatic  diplomacy  were  set  to  work ;  the  Russian 
court  was  willing  to  pass  the  winter  as  agreeably  as  possible 
pi-evious  to  commencing  a  campaign  of  which  it  entertained 
such  brilliant  anticipations,  and  an  engagement  for  six  months 
was  offered  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  who  was  permitted  by 
the  courtesy  of  the  French  government  to  accept  it. 

This  important  news  was  communicated  in  the  following 

terms  to  M.  Ernest  Legouve,  one  of  the  authors  of  "  Adrienne 

Lecouvreur,"  by  Madame  de  Saigneville,  a  friend  of  the  tmgc- 

■  dienne,  and  her  secretary  whenever  a  difficult  negotiation  was 

to  be  carried  through  : 

"October  5th. 
"You  have  probably  learned,  sir,  by  the  newspapers,  the 
incredible  munificence  of  the  engagement  proposed  to  our  Ra- 
chel in  the  name  of  the  Emperor  of  Russia.  Government  has 
thought  fit  to  permit  the  great  artiste  to  earn  in  six  months  a 
fortune.  Rachel  will  be  back  here  on  the  15th  of  May  (1854). 
She  will,  on  her  arrival,  be  quite  perfect  in  "jNIedea,"  and  the 
tragedy  will  be  acted  immediately.  I  send  you  herewith  her 
letter,  properly  dated.  She  commissioned  me  to  forward  it 
as  a  proof  of  her  good  intentions. 

"  I  need  not  say  how  devotedly  I  am  yours, 

"  L.  J.  DE  Saigneville." 


268  HEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

The  above  letter  was  corroborated  by  one  from  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel  herself,  written  in  the  coaxing,  insinuating  tone 
women  command  so  readily  when  they  wish  to  obtain  any 
thing. 

*'  Dear  M.  Legouve, — Brilliant  offers  have  long  been  made 
to  induce  me  to  spend  a  winter  in  Russia.  These  I  have  re- 
fused, alleging  my  duties  at  the  Theatre  Frangais  and  the  fear 
of  disobliging  my  comrades.  But  the  engagement  now  offered 
is  really  so  extraordinarily  advantageous  that  I  have  endeavor- 
ed to  obtain  the  very  gi-eat  favor  of  taking  this  Avinter  the  six 
months'  conge  I  was  to  have  next  summer.  The  Emperor,  the 
Minister  of  State,  and  the  Comedie  Frangaise  have  granted  me 
leave  to  visit  tliat  northern  nation.  I  set  out  with  sufficient 
courage,  and  I  assure  you  it  is  needed  to  brave  the  approach- 
ing season,  which  threatens  to  be  severe.  Do  not,  dear  sir, 
increase  my  grief  (which  is  great)  by  bearing  me  any  ill-will. 
I  shall  keep  "  Medea."  I  would  greatly  wish  to  find  her  on 
my  return  the  spotless  maiden  she  now  is;  but,  whate%'er 
happens  to  her,  my  love  is  such  I  will  willingly  receive  her 
back  from  the  arms  she  may  have  wandered  into. 

"  You  have  sometimes  professed  yourself  my  friend ;  here, 
now,  is  an  excellent  opportunity  of  proving  yourself  one.  I 
hope,  on  my  return,  to  find  your  friendship  unaltered. 

"  As  for  me,  I  am  ever  your  devoted  Rachel. 

"Paris,  October  4th,  1853." 

The  reader  who  has  forgotten,  or  perhaps  heard  of  the  suit 
at  law  between  M.  Legouve  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel  toward 
the  close  of  the  year  >854,  will  perhaps  question  wliy  the  proud 
Boxane,  the  fierce  Hermione,  should  write  so  coaxingly  to  M. 
Legouve,  and  why  she,  who  had  a  pass  signed  by  the  Emper- 
or, the  Minister  of  State,  and  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  deemed 
it  requisite  that  it  should  be  countersigned  by  that  gentleman. 
A  few  words  will  explain  her  anxiety  on  this  point,  and  throw 
some  preliminary  light  on  the  subsequent  quarrel. 

M.  Legouve,  the  son  of  a  poet,  a  poet  himself  of  some  rep- 
utation, and  one  of  the  authors  of  "  Adrienne  Lecouvreur," 
had  become  the  friend  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  under  the  fol- 


BIEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  269 

lowing  circumstances.  Adrienne  was  first  offered  to  Made- 
moiselle Rachel,  who,  after  learning  and  rehearsing  the  part, 
suddenly  took  it  into  her  head  that  it  was  quite  unsuited  to 
her.  This  caprice,  for  we  have  already  seen  that  she  had  nei- 
ther taste  nor  discernment  in  dramatic  literature,  offended  M. 
Scribe  exceedingly,  and  he  gave  the  charming  rule  to  Made- 
moiselle Rose  Chcri.  The  spirit  of  rivalry  did  what  no  en- 
treaties or  the  promptings  of  good  sense  could  have  obtained. 
Rachel  was  as  eager  to  have  the  part  when  it  was  another's 
as  she  had  been  obstinate  in  returning  it  when  it  was  hei's. 
But  M.  Scribe  was  also  a  sovereign  power  in  theatrical  affairs. 
He  was  in  his  turn  obdurate,  and  it  was  only  through  the 
kindly  intervention  of  his  co-author,  M.  Legouve,  that  the  cov- 
eted part  went  back  to  its  original  destination. 

The  success  of  the  play  having  taught  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
how  much  she  was  indebted  to  him  who  had  restored  it  to 
her,'  became  the  foundation  of  the  warmest  friendship  between 
them.  The  actress,  with  that  passionate  enthusiasm  of  heart 
and  head  which  is  too  often  the  sole  guide  of  the  sex,  could 
neither  see  nor  hear  save  through  her  cher  auteur.  She  would 
have  wished  to  play  no  works  but  his,  and,  until  he  could 
write  new  ones  for  her,  she  took  up  his  old  ones. 

Mademoiselle  Mars  had  some  years  before  created  with  the 
fullest  success  the  rule  of  Louise  de  Lignerolles.  We  have  seen 
that  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  who  ought  to  have  been  taught 
wisdom  by  former  failures,  undertook  once  more  to  prove  her 
right  of  succession  to  the  light  sceptre  so  gracefully  held  by 
the  great  comedienne;  but  the  attempt  was  extremely  unfor- 
tunate. That  her  good- will  was  not  lacking  is  fully  sho^\'n 
by  the  following  lines,  written  on  the  fly-leaf  of  a  copy  of 
"Talma's  Memoirs"  sent  to  M.  Legouve  on  the  6tli  of  Janu- 
ary, 1852.  • 

"  I  mean  to  spend  my  nights  learning  '  Louise  dc  Ligne- 
rolles,' with  which  I  am  exceedingly  charmed.  See  [M.  Hous- 
saye  as  soon  as  possible,  that  the  work  may  be  immediately 
revived.  You  may  rely  on  my  zeal,  my  devotion,  and  some- 
what, too,  on  my  ability.  I  send  you  a  book,  the  perusal  of 
which  will,  I  think,  interest  you.  You  have  promised  me  a 
play  for  1853  ;  I  rely  on  having  it,  mind.  Rachel." 


270  MEMOIRS    OP    RACHEL. 

Monsieur  Legouve  was  justified  in  considering  so  positive 
an  invitation,  as  it  were,  in  the  presence  of  the  shade  of  Tal- 
ma, as  a  formal  command,  binding  on  both  sides.  He  set  to 
work,  choosing  "Medea"  as  his  subject. 

The  subject  was  not  a  new  one  ;  but  neither  had  his  prede- 
cessors, who  wrote  expressly  for  Mademoiselle  Eachel,  selected 
very  modern  themes.  The  "  Lucrece"  of  M.  Fonsard  and  the 
"  Virginie"  of  M.  Latour  de  St.  Ybars,  the  two  tragedies  of 
contemporaries  in  which  she  had  been  most  happy,  were  both 
based  on  incidents  borrowed  from  the  early  legends  of  the 
Roman  republic.  The  character  of  Medea  was,  perhaps,  moi-e 
appropriate  than  either  of  the  former  to  bring  into  bold  relief 
the  peculiar  qualities  and  style  of  the  actress.  She  had,  more- 
over, expressed  a  wish  that  the  play  should  be  short,  and  that 
all  the  interest  should  be  concentrated  in  her  part.  The  trag- 
edy was  accox'dingly  in  three  acts  only,  during  which  the 
fierce  princess  was  almost  constantly  on  the  stage.  In  these 
two  points,  at  least,  Mademoiselle  Eachel's  views  were  fully 
carried  out. 

"Mede'e"  was  finished  in  April  of  that  year  (1852),  and 
Mademoiselle  Eachel,  who  had  been  forthwith  apprised  of  the 
fact,  promptly  replied  to  the  communication  by  the  following 
grateful  and  friendly  letter : 

"  MoN  CHER  AuTEUR, — I  am  exceedingly  desirous  of  hear- 
ing your  new  work.  I  am  yet  rather  ailing,  not  having  quite 
recovered  from  an  indisposition  I  suffered  from  in  Belgium 
last  month  ;  but  having  had  the  courage  to  submit  to  the 
most  absolute  inaction  during  all  this  month,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  there  is  still  life  in  me,  and  especially  strength  enough 
to  be  indebted  to  you  for  new  triumphs.  I  am  at  present  re- 
siding*at  Montmorency,  where,  if  you  please,  I  will  hear  the 
play  that  is  to  be  our  next  winter's  success.  The  8th  of  Sep- 
tember would  suit  me  well ;  the  hour  I  leave  to  you,  as  I  am 
always  at  home.  I  would  wish  the  part  to  be  a  brilliant  one, 
but  not  fatiguing,  since,  unfortunately,  I  shall  not  for  some 
months  be  able  to  play  my  grand  repertoire,  that  is,  '  Phedre,' 
'  Horaces,'  '  Louise  de  Lignerolles,'  '  Marie  Stuart,'  '  Andro- 
maquc,'  &c.,  «S:c.     That  shows  you  I  am  not  very  strong  yet. 


JIEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  271 

I  am  in  hopes  the  reading  of  your  play  will  accelerate  my  re- 
covery. I  shall  owe  you  much ;  rely  on  it,  then,  that  I  will 
be  doubly  grateful.  Rachel. 

"Montmorency,  August  27th." 

The  private  reading  alluded  to  in  the  above  letter  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  official  one  before  the  comite  de  lecture  of  the  the- 
atre, and  it  was  received  conditionally — that  is,  there  were 
six  white  and  six  red  balls.  The  explanation  of  this  was  that 
two  acts  were  unanimously  received,  and  one  on  condition  of 
certain  alterations,  to  which  the  author  consented.  The  third 
act  having  been  remoulded,  the  play  was  submitted  to  an  or- 
deal considered  by  authors  as  almost  equivalent  to  a  public 
performance — it  was  read  in  the  presence  of  an  audience  con- 
sisting of  the  elite  of  literature  and  of  society.  Among  the 
men  of  the  world,  of  letters,  and  of  that  of  fashion  assembled 
in  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  salon  were  Messrs.  Charton,  H.  Mar- 
tin, J.  Janin,  BrifFault,  Rolle,  De  Noailles,  Berlioz,  &c.,  by 
whom  "  Mede'e"  was  received  with  great  applause,  the  hostess 
herself  manifesting  the  most  enthusiastic  admiration. 

This  time  the  admission  by  the  comite  de  lecture  of  the  the- 
atre was  unanimous  and  unconditional,  and  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel was  rehearsing  her  part  diligently,  when,  in  September 
of  1853,  the  voyage  to  Russia  was  resolved  upon. 

It  is  evident  that  it  was  rather  a  delicate  matter  to  propose 
to  an  author,  who  had  been  laboring  for  two  years  for  her  and 
at  her  request,  the  adjournment  of  all  his  hopes  at  the  moment 
they  were  about  to  be  realized.  Hence  the  coaxing  tone  of 
the  letters  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  and  her  secretary.  Made- 
moiselle de  Saigneville. 

M.  Legouve,  however,  did  not  justify  the  charge  made  against 
authors  belonging  to  the  genus  irritable.  lie  consented  with 
a  good  grace  to  the  proposed  delay ;  and,  free  from  all  ob- 
stacles, Mademoiselle  Rachel  set  out  for  Russia  in  the  month 
of  October  of  this  year. 

A  few  words  on  the  present  state  of  theatricals  in  the  cap- 
ital of  Russia  will  be  a  sufficient  protest  against  the  assertions 
of  those  who  deem  it  no  difficult  matter  to  earn  distinction  in 
what  they  imagine  to  be  a  city  where  dramatic  art  is  still  in 
its  infancy. 


272  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

St.  Petersburg  possesses  four  theatres  and  six  theatrical 
companies. 

The  houses  are : 

The  Grand  Theatre,  where  the  Italian  Opera  and  ballets 
are  given. 

The  Russian  Theatre,  or  Theatre  Alexandre,  for  the  per- 
formance of  Avorks  in  the  national  language :  hj  a  singular 
anomaly,  this  house  is  the  one  that  attracts  the  fewest  spec- 
tators. 

The  French  Theatre,  or  Theatre  Mikaclski,  exclusively  ap- 
propriated to  French  companies. 

The  Theatre  Cirque,  so  called  from  its  having  been  origin- 
ally built  for  the  performance  of  the  Imperial  Equestrian  Com- 
pany. At  present  the  Russian  Opera  Company  and  German 
Dramatic  Company  perform  there  alternately. 

The  Grand  Theatre  and  the  Theatre  Franc;ais  are  the  best 
patronized  in  St.  Petersburg.  The  court,  the  citizens,  and 
the  numerous  French  inhabitants  ai'e  supporters  of  these  two 
houses.  The  German  performances  at  the  The'atre  du  Cirque 
attract  only  the  German  residents.  As  to  the  Russian  dra- 
matic and  operatic  performances,  they  are  left  entirely  to  the 
lower  classes,  who  do  not  exhibit  any  very  ardent  patriotism 
in  their  support.  The  Russians  seem  to  feel  already  that,  to 
take  their  place  worthily  in  the  ranks  of  civilized  nations, 
they  must  renounce  in  an  artistic  and  literary  sense  the  use 
of  their  languafre. 

The  two  Russian  theatres  are  in  their  infancy,  but  not  in 
such  infancy  as  was  that  of  Western  theatricals  when  they 
were  compelled  to  struggle  against  barbarism,  and  to  seek 
their  models  in  the  dust  of  ages  and  in  the  scattered  fragments 
of  forgotten  antiquity.  The  pieces  brought  out  in  those  the- 
atres gave  evidence  of  the  contemporary  education  their  au- 
thors have  received  and  of  the  atmosphere  in  which  they  have 
dwelt.  There  is  more  than  one  Russian  dramatic  work  on  a 
level  with  the  present  century,  and  which,  translated  into 
French  or  English,  would  take  its  place  among  those  most  in 
vogue  in  London  or  Paris.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
actors.  They  are  not  grossly  ignorant  companions  of  Thespis, 
fit  only  to  perform  in  silly  shows  for  the  amusement  of  spec- 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  273 

tators  neither  wiser  nor  more  refined  than  themselves.  They 
have  been  formed  in  the  schools  of  their  French,  German,  and 
Italian  comrades,  and  have  been  earl}'  initiated  in  all  the  rules 
of  art,  in  all  the  mysteries  of  the  profession.  There  are  sev- 
eral among  them  who  can^  bear  comparison  with  the  most 
celebrated  of  the  members  of  the  French  troop. 

Such  was  the  dramatic  world  in  which  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel made  her  appearance  in  St.  Petersburg. 

The  reception  of  the  tragedienne  in  St.  Petersburg  was  not 
only  most  gratifying  to  her  vanity,  but  also  most  encouraging 
as  to  her  success.  Strange  to  say,  however,  no  experience  or 
long  practice,  no  confidence  in  the  favorable  disposition  toward 
her  of  the  audience,  could  make  her  conquer  the  timidity  with 
which  she  is  seized  when  about  to  appear  either  in  a  new  part 
or  before  a  new  public.  For  some  days  before  the  ordeal  she 
was  always  in  a  state  of  great  nervous  excitement,  fidgety, 
irritable,  and  fault-finding  to  the  last  degree.  This  state  of 
mind  is  so  inseparable  to  a  debiit  that  the  event  is  as  much 
dreaded  by  those  about  her  as  by  herself  Poor  Eose,  her 
faithful  maid,  is  most  especially  delighted  when  the  event  is 
over,  and  her  mistress  has  again  recovered  her  usual  placidity 
of  temper.  When  she  comes  on  the  stage  on  these  occasions 
her  hands  are  icy  cold,  the  drops  of  perspiration  cover  her 
brow,  her  voice  is  husky,  her  limbs  are  so  tremulous  she  can 
scai'cely  stand.  This  emotion,  which,  in  one  so  skilled  and 
practiced  to  appear  before  the  foot-lights,  is  extraordinary,  is 
reproduced,  more  or  less  violently,  every  time  she  plays  in  a 
character  which  the  public  has  not  seen  her  in,  though  she 
may  have  acted  it  with  applause  scores  of  times  elsewhere. 

When,  therefore,  she  appeared  before  the  court  of  St.  Peters- 
burg in  "  Phedre,"  she  did  not  justify  her  reputation  on  the 
first  night.  It  was  not  encouragement  that  was  lacking,  and 
it  was  given,  too,  most  liberally,  at  most  unexpected  moments. 
For  instance,  when  Phedre  utters  the  passage  ending  with 
these  lines, 

"Detestable  flatteurs  present  Ic  plus  funeste, 
Que  puisse  faire  aux  rois  le  colere  celeste  !" 

the  signal  for  loud  applause  came  from  the  imperial  box,  and 

was  too  enthusiastic  and  prolonged  for  the  intention  to  be 

]\I  2 


274  MEMOIRS    OF    EACHEL. 

mistaken.     It  was  called  forth  as  much  by  the  allusion  the 
lines  contained  as  by  the  talent  of  the  actress  who  uttered 

them. 

In  "Lady  TartulFe"  the  emotion  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
was  such  that  it  was  thought  by  those  on  the  stage  and  be- 
hind the  scenes  she  would  not  be  able  to  proceed  with  the 
part.  In  the  scene  of  the  fifth  act,  when  Henri  reveals  him- 
self by  throwing  the  bouquet  of  heather  to  her  whom  he  ac- 
cuses of  causing  his  friend's  death,  it  was  fortunate  that  the 
part  required  a  show  of  emotion,  which  this  time  was  not 
feigned.  It  was  in  vain  the  prompter  gave  her  the  cue ;  she 
had  completely  lost  her  memory,  and  could  only  whisper  to 
him  who  played  Henri,  "Oh,  I  can  not — can  not  go  on!" 
("  Je  n'en  puis  plus.")  The  nature  of  the  passage  giving  her 
time  to  recover,,  she  finally  shook  off  the  feeling. 

The  French  company  i-emained  at  the  Mikaelski  theatre 
fourteen  weeks,  during  which  time  Eachel  played  every  other 
day.  The  favorite  play  with  the  Russian  public  seemed  to  be 
"  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,"  and  it  was  accordingly  given  oftener 
than  any  other. 

The  imperial  approbation  showed  itself  in  a  tangible  form 
as  well  as  in  empty  compliments  and  evanescent  applause. 
The  tragedienne  was  presented  by  the  empress  with  a  pelisse 
of  the  most  costly  furs  in  the  world,  and  by  the  munificent 
Nicholas  with  a  diamond  and  ruby  corsage  ornament  of  great 
value.  Raphael  Felix  had  his  share  of  the  spoils  in  the  shape 
of  a  magnificent  ring.  There  was  an  idle  report  among  the  act- 
ors that  a  handsome  sum  had  been  sent  to  be  distributed  among 
the  other  members  of  the  company,  but  Raphael  undeceived 
them ;  the  money  had  been  sent  as  the  price  of  the  boxes  taken 
by  the  court. 

From  St.  Petersburg  Rachel  went  to  Moscow,  where  she 
played  six  weeks.  The  company  was  to  have  played  in  War- 
saw, but  counter-orders  were  given  by  the  government. 

The  success  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  not  alone  due  to 
her  as  an  actress ;  she  made  innumerable  conquests  over  the 
hearts  of  the  young  boyards,  and  the  gallant  officers,  who  joy- 
ously anticipated  nothing  less  than  a  second  invasion  of  France, 
appeared  proud  to  wear  the  chains  of  her  celebrated  daughter. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  275 

Among  the  numerous  unauthenticated  anecdotes  that  circu- 
hxted  with  regard  to  her  say  nigs  and  doings  during  her  stay  in 
the  Czar's  domains,  we  venture  to  present  the  folio  win"-  to 
our  readers,  by  many  of  whom  it  may  have  ah-eady  been  seen, 
as  it  has  appeared  in  print.  We  give  it,  not  on  account  of  its 
being  more  worthy  of  belief,  but  because,  if  true,  it  does  credit 
to  Kachel ;  if  not,  she  had  ready  wit  enough  to  have  made 
the  reply,  though  her  j)citriotism  would  never  have  suggested  it. 

A  dinner  had  been  offered  to  the  French  IMelpomene,  and 
the  young  military  guests  were  speaking  of  the  possibility 
that  the  sword  might  be  called  to  sever  the  Gordian  knot 
that  diplomacy  seemed  to  despair  of  ever  loosening. 

"We  shall  not  bid  you  adieu,  but  cm  revoir,  mademoiselle," 
quoth  one  of  the  gay  sons  of  Mars  to  the  tragklienne ;  "  we 
hope  soon  to  applaud  you  in  the  capital  of  France,  and  to 
drink  your  health  in  its  excellent  wines." 

"Nay,  messieurs,"  replied  she,  "France  will  not  be  rich 
enough  to  afford  Champagne  to  all  her  prisoners." 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 

1854. 


Keturn  from  Russia. — Prudence  versus  Patriotism. — M.  Legouve  loses 
Patience. — A  Declaration  of  "War  before  the  Civil  Tribunal. — Soft 
Words. — M.  Legouve  apijcascd. — The  Spoiled  Pet  and  the  Public. 
— Another  Quarrel  patched  up. — Mademoiselle  Rachel  in  the  Clas- 
sic Eepei-ioire  at  the  close  of  her  Cai-eer. — "Phedre." — "Camille." — 
A  Souvenir  of  the  Past. 

It  was  said  that  the  harvest  Mademoiselle  Rachel  reaped 
in  Russia  amounted  to  300,000  francs  for  her  own  share,  and 
that  Raphael's  modest  gains  as  manager  of  the  company  gave 
a  total  of  100,000  francs.  A  very  handsome  reward  for  mak- 
ing what,  under  the  circumstances,  might  be  considered  a 
pleasure  trip ! 

But  the  hour  had  arrived  when  Russian  hearts  were  to  be 
left  to  break,  or  seek  comfort  elsewhere.  As  to  that  of  the 
fortunate  daughter  of  Israel,  it  found  satisfactory  compensa- 
tion in  the  rubles  she  bore  away.  She  might  say  with  truth, 
"  C'est  autant  de  prisur  I'ennemi !" 


276  MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL. 

Political  events  marched  on  apace,  and  left  no  time  to  de- 
liberate;  the  war  was  imminent.  It  was  said  that  the  Czar 
had  one  moment  entertained  the  idea  of  detaining  Mademoi- 
selle as  a  willing  hostess,  but  that  she  had  refused  to  remain. 
In  fact,  there  was  no  longer  any  inducement.  If  she  staid 
after  the  close  of  her  engagement  she  had  to  do  so  on  her  own 
account,  and  the  chances  were  against  her  in  that  case.  The 
majority  of  the  fashionable  aristocracy  having  a  knowledge  of 
the  language  conld  appreciate  her  acting,  but  many  would  be 
called  away  to  join  the  army.  Of  the  gentry,  some  went  to 
see  her  merely  because  it  was  the  fashion  to  do  so,  and,  the 
novelty  once  over,  never  cared  to  go  again.  It  was  not  in 
St.  Petersburg  as  in  Paris,  where  the  bourgeoisie  are  among 
the  stanch  supporters  of  the  stage,  and  even  the  lower  class 
delight  in  theatricals,  and  contribute  gladly  their  quota  to 
support  them.  The  Russian  tradespeople  could  find  no  charms 
in  Eacine  and  Corneille,  and  the  inferior  ranks  were  not  to 
be  counted  at  all. 

All  these  considerations  aroused  the  dormant  patriotism  of 
the  tragedienne,  and  she  hurried  home  when  she  could  get  noth- 
ing by  staying  any  longer.  vShe  was,  perhaps,  the  last  French- 
woman that  crossed  the  frontier. 

During  her  stay  in  the  Czar's  dominions  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel had  continually  heard  her  Russian  friends  boast  of  what 
they  should,  could,  and  would  do.  The  invasion  of  1814  and 
1815  were  to  find  their  parallels  in  1854.  These  vain  brag- 
gings probably  had  their  eflfect  on  the  prudent  actress,  and 
made  her  resolve  to  quit,  for  a  time,  a  country  that  was  likely 
to  be  impoverished,  if  not  ruined,  by  the  invader.  She  might, 
in  the  mean  while,  seek  in  America  another  El  Dorado.  Time 
was  money,  and  she  could  not  lose  hers. 

She  did  not  even  await  her  arrival  in  Paris  to  carry  out 
her  plans,  but  began  their  execution  before  she  left  Russia. 

That  the  American  excui'sion  was  planned  at  that  time 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe.  Why  else  should  Rachel 
have  thought  fit,  immediately  on  her  arrival  in  France,  to 
repay  the  courtesy  and  kindness  with  Avhich  the  Emperor,  the 
Alinistcr  of  State,  and  the  Coraedie  Fran^aise  had  permitted 
her  to  visit  that  northern  nation,  by  sending  in  lior  resigna- 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  277 

tion  ?  Why  else  should  she  have  deputed  her  mother  to  sig- 
nify to  M.  Legouve  that  "  decidedly  she  would  not  play  Me- 
dee,"  the  Medce  which  Mademoiselle  de  Saigneville  had  an- 
nounced "should  be  played  immediately  on  her  return  from 
Russia,"  and  which  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  so  afraid  she 
would  not  find  "the  same  pure  maiden,"  though  her  love  was 
such  she  was  "willing  to  take  her  from  the  arms  she  might 
have  strayed  into." 

We  know  not  how  the  French  government  received  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  resignation,  but  the  revelations  of  the  Pal- 
ais de  Justice  have  placed  before  us  the  rather  sharp  answer 
returned  by  M.  Legouve  to  the  intimation  forwarded  to  him 
of  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  resolutions  with  regard  to  "Medee." 

"Dear  Lady,"  wrote  the  poet,  "I  have  had  the  honor  to 
see  madame,  your  mother ;  she  communicated  to  me  the  con- 
tents of  your  letter.  I  replied  as  I  reply  to  you  now — that  it 
is  impossible  you  should  not  play  '  Medee.'  Of  this  I  will 
easily  convince  you  on  your  return.  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
have  afforded  you  the  opportunity  of  a  new  triumph,  even  a 
little  against  your  will. 

"  Yours,  very  truly,  E.  Legouve." 

This  firm  but  courteous  letter  met  Mademoiselle  Rachel  in 
Warsaw  on  her  way  back.  Pier  reply,  dated  March  14th, 
was  us  follows : 

"My  dear  M.  Legouve, — Your  letter  reached  me  on  my 
arrival  in  Warsaw  ;  I  hasten  to  answer  it,  for  I  would  not  be 
the  cause  of  delaying  any  longer  the  success  that  awaits  "  Me- 
dee" at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais. 

"  My  resignation  is  most  serious  ;  consequently,  I  have  but 
six  months  to  give  to  the  Theati-e  Fran^-ais.  I  wish  in  that 
time  to  play  all  ray  classic  rejjei^toire ;  this  I  could  not  do  if  I 
undertook  a  new  creation  at  present.  1  will  even  confess  that 
I  ought  not  to  create  a  new  rale  when  I  am  on  the  eve  of 
quitting  the  French  stage.  The  conviction  that  the  press 
would  not  support  me,  fear  would  paralyze  my  faculties,  and 
it  is  not  at  the  close  of  my  career  in  the  Rue  de  Richelieu  that 
I  would  like  to  risk  seventeen  years  of  success  in  Pnri?. 


278  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

"  Pray  believe,  dear  M.  Legouve,  that  I  am  truly  grieved  to 
find  I  must  give  up  the  playing  of 'Medee.' 

"  Very  much  your  friend,  Rachel." 

No  sort  of  doubt  could  remain,  and  iM.  Legouve — the  cour- 
teous, peace-seeking  M.  Legouve — vi^as  obliged  to  seek  the  re- 
dress the  law  alone  could  give  him.  Mademoiselle  Eachel 
reached  Paris  on  the  27th  of  March;  on  the  30th  she  was 
legally  notified  to  play  Medee.  This  first  step  having  been 
taken  no  notice  of,  a  petition  to  be  allowed  to  summon  the 
rebellious  actress  herself  was  presented  on  the  1st  of  April  to 
the  President  of  the  Civil  Tribunal  of  the  Seine,  and  forthwith 
granted. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel  knew  well  with  whom  she  had  to  deal, 
and,  convinced  that  these  fierce  demonstrations  emanated  not 
from  him,  but  from  his  lawyer,  she  wrote  him  a  letter  that 
would  have  disarmed  a  man  of  sterner  mould  than  the  son  of 
the  soft-hearted  author  of  "De  Merite  des  Femmes." 

"  I  am  about  to  start  for  the  Pyrenees  to  meet  my  sister 
Rebecca,  who  is  there  extremely  ill,  to  take  one  of  my  children 
there,  whose  state  of  health  alarms  me  gi-eatly,  and  to  seek 
myself  the  rest  which  has  been  prescribed  to  me,  I  leave 
here  on  account  of  all  these  very  strong  motives,  of  which  you 
are  not  ignorant,  but  I  can  not  absent  myself  from  Paris  with- 
out coming  to  some  decision  on  the  subject  of  the  lawsuit  you 
have  commenced  against  me — you,  whom  I  called,  and  whom 
I  still  call,  my  dear  Monsieur  Legouve. 

"  I  am  only  here,  on  my  way  through  Paris,  a  prey  to  the 
most  harrowing  anxiety,  and  I  receive,  one  after  another,  two 
horrid  bits  of  stamped  paper  instead  of  the  interview  of  ten 
minutes,  which,  as  you  wrote  me  in  "Warsaw,  was  to  set  mat- 
ters right  between  us,  and  which  certainly  would  have  done  so 
had  you  consulted  your  memory  instead  of  the  retailers  of 
chicanery. 

"  Must  I  imitate  you  ?  I  ask  myself  this  question  between 
two  half-packed  trunks,  but  I  hesitate  but  a  second.  No,  I 
will  not  play  Medee  under  judicial  compulsion,  with  the  risk, 
if  the  guilty,  the  abominable  '  Medee'  does  not  meet  with  the 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  279 

success  the  author  expects,  of  hearing  myself  accused  by  his 
friends  as  the  cause.  People  of  the  world  and  of  the  press 
will  not  fail  to  say  that,  if  '  Medee'  did  not  succeed,  it  was  the 
fault  of  ISIademoisclle  Rachel,  who  retaliated  by  opposing  ill- 
will  to  compulsion,  and  revenged  herself  on  the  author  by 
killing  the  piece. 

"'J/ec/(V  may  murder  her  children,  she  may  even  poison 
her  worthy  father-in-law ;  I  can  not  do  the  same,  even  if  I 
would. 

"  The  public  must  not  be  taken  for  an  accomplice  to  avenge 
theatrical  quai^»els  when  one  bears  such  a  name  as  mine,  and 
when  one  has  for  it  the  respect  I  have. 

"Consequently,  my  dear  M.  Legouve,  I  will  show  in  this 
petty  war  more  moderation  than  you,  although  the  epoch 
when  I  shall  irrevocably  cease  to  belong  to  the  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais  is  very  nigh ;  although  I  can  now  give  but  a  very  few 
performances,  which,  out  of  gratitude,  must  be  from  my  classic 
repertoire^  when  every  thing  proves  that  I  shall  not  have  time 
in  case  of  possible  failure  to  seek  to  retrieve  it,  I  will  not  have 
a  lawsuit.  You  will  have  me  play  Medte  under  these  cir- 
cumstances 1  AVell,  I  will  do  so.  I  will  even  endeavor  to 
forget  your  summonses,  your  stamped  paper,  messages,  and 
huissiers'  \\?:\t.  I  will  forget  all  my  griefs,  and  only  remember 
the  success  for  which  we  have  been  reciprocally  indebted  to 
each  other,  and  the  friendship  you  have  been  so  ready  to 
break. 

"At  the  expiration  of  my  conge  I  will  undertake  Medce. 
You  have  merit  enough  to  afford  to  be  modest,  but  you  are 
certainly  too  modest  wlien  you  deem  me  indispensable  to  your 
work. 

"  Meanwhile,  until  I  can  call  myself  your  devoted  Jledee,  I 
still  sign  myself  your  entirely  devoted  Rachel. 

"Paris,  April  9th,  1854." 

This  time  the  motives  alleged  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel  for 
her  absence  and  for  the  delay  she  again  begged  were  but  too 
well  founded.  The  state  of  Rebecca's  health  was  most  alarm- 
ing. M.  Legouve  is  a  poet,  but,  above  all,  he  is  a  man  he- 
reditarily devoted  to  the  worship  and  companionship  of  worn- 


280  BIEMOmS    OF    RACHEL. 

an.  The  most  sensitive  chords  of  his  heart  had  been  art- 
fully touched — he  was  disarmed — the  suit  was  not  prosecuted: 
he  waited. 

The  comjc,  however,  at  length  expired,  and  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  made  her  reappearance  in  "Phedre"  on  the  30th  of 
]May. 

Never,  perhaps,  had  the  absence  of  that  personal  sympathy 
which  had  always  been  lacking  between  Mademoiselle  Rachel 
and  the  parterre  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  been  manifested  so 
plainly  as  on  the  evening  of  this  rentree.  Many  were  the 
sins  accumulated  on  that  head.  The  reme«abrance  of  her 
conduct  toward  the  committee  of  the  theatre  and  the  legal 
debates  to  which  it  had  given  rise  were  fresh  in  every  m.ind. 
The  Comedie  Fran^ais  is  a  sort  of  holy  ark  with  the  Paris- 
ians. But  that  which  had  added  gall  to  the  cup  was  her 
subsequent  anti-patriotic /i/^z/e  to  Russia — a  country  that  had 
left  such  painful  souvenirs  in  the  capital — souvenirs  that  had 
then  not  as  yet  been  effaced  by  the  glorious  exploits  of  the 
French  army  in  the  Crimea — a  country  that  boasted  of  re- 
newing the  days  of  shame  and  humiliation  of  1814  !  On  the 
eve  of  a  bloody  war,  Rachel  had  hastened  to  contribute  her 
talent  to  the  entertainment  of  the  enemy.  The  reception  of 
the  capricious,  nomade,  grasping  renegade  was  in  accordance 
with  the  thoughts  that  filled  every  mind.  It  was  silent — cold 
as  the  tomb :  every  brow  was  stern,  every  eye  severe. 

But  the  more  implacable  and  resolute  seemed  the  audience 
in  its  indignation,  the  more  determined  was  the  actress  to 
conquer  and  bring  it  back,  if  not  to  love,  at  least  to  passion- 
ate admiration.  And  she  succeeded ;  for,  we  have  already 
said  it,  with  her,  will  was  power. 

Now  that  this,  the  greatest  French  tragic  actress  that  has 
appeared  for  many  years,  and  who,  perhaps,  will  have  no 
worthy  successor  for  several  generations,  is  in  all  likelihood 
really  excluded  forever  from  that  stage  she  so  frequently 
threatened  to  forsake,  a  few  words  on  the  manner  in  which 
she  performed,  at  the  close  of  her  career,  the  plays  of  her 
classic  repertoire,  are  due  to  her.* 

*  The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  that  the  greater  portion  of  this  work 
was  written  before  the  death  of  JMademoisclle  Rachel. 


MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  281 

When  Mademoiselle  Rachel  first  won  the  enthusiastic  ad- 
miration of  the  public,  she  was  immediately  called  la  gi-ande 
tragedienne.  Yet  at  that  time  she  only  gave  promise  of  what 
she  would  be ;  the  signs  were  indeed  extraordinary,  and  slic 
fully  justified  afterward  the  expectations  she  had  raised  and 
the  title  she  had  obtained.  But  it  was  not  at  once  that,  in 
every  rule,  she  deserved  the  extravagant  encomiums  lavished 
upon  her  first  steps ;  there  Avere  some  in  which  only  transient 
rays  pierced  at  intervals  through  the  darkness.  It  was  not 
until  some  years  had  elapsed  that  the  radiant  sun  burst  forth 
in  all  its  splcndoi*. 

The  one  in  which  her  excellence  was  most  evidently  pro- 
gressive was  "Phedre."  It  was  not  until  her  return  from 
Russia,  when  her  talent  was  in  its  maturity,  that  she  fully 
realized  this  superhuman  conception  of  the  poet. 

It  was  remarked  that  she  had  brought  back  from  her  dis- 
tant excursion  the  art  she  either  had  not  before,  or  had  never 
deemed  necessary — the  art  of  pantomime.  When,  in  France, 
Rachel  had  uttered  in  her  deep,  clear,  sonorous  tones  the 
poetry  of  Corneille  and  Racine,  the  poets  were  sufficient  in 
themselves ;  they  were  at  home,  and  loved  and  appreciated ; 
the  public  knew  the  text,  and  needed  no  paraphrase.  But 
the  priestess  had  borne  her  gods  into  an  unknown  region,  es- 
tablished their  altars  in  an  unconsecrated  temple,  amid  unbe- 
lieving nations ;  the  pythoness  spoke  a  strange  tongue ;  tlie 
melody  of  those  eloquent  oracles  fell  into  sealed  ears,  and  the 
human  passions  to  which  she  gave  a  voice  were  mute  to  those 
deaf  spectators.  Something  that  appealed  to  the  eye  was 
wanting  there,  and  the  intelligent  interpreter  supplied  it.  And 
when  she  brought  back  this  new  faculty,  even  those  who  had 
never  found  it  lacking  exulted  in  the  acquisition,  and  tlie  de- 
tractors, who  would  formerly  only  acknowledge  she  was  a 
splendid  reader,  dared  no  longer  thus  qualify  their  praise. 

The  character  played  was  now  not  in  the  voice  and  look 
only  of  the  actress,  but  in  her  whole  being.  The  voice 
of  the  actor  has  but  a  limited  part  to  play  in  the  event. 
When  he  ceases  to  speak  the  interest  is  transferred  to  the 
next  speaker,  and  so  on  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  dra- 
matis personce.      With  Rachel  the  case  stood  wholly  difier- 


282  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

ent.  She  concentrated  the  tragedy  on  herself.  She  embodied 
the  event — began  and  developed  it — foreshadowed  the  end. 
She  incarnated  the  character,  the  action.  When  she  appear- 
ed as  Phcdre,  bending  under  the  weight  of  the  diadem  that 
burned  that  brow  like  a  fiery  circle,  shrinking  from  the  veils 
that  enrobed  her,  she  was  the  type  of  suffering,  the  living 
image  of  Destiny's  victim ;  her  curse  and  her  crime  are  pres- 
ent throughout  the  play. 

It  was  more  especially  in  the  death-scene  that  Eachel  typi- 
fied with  mute,  thrilling  eloquence  the  Greek  victim.  The 
agony,  so  calm,  so  proud,  so  dignified,  is  truly  that  of  the 
God-descended  queen,  who  disdains  to  betray  the  mortal  pangs 
that  rack  her  terrestrial  nature.  Pantomime  is  not  only  al- 
most impossible  to  describe,  but  is  also  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult things  to  imitate.  It  might  perhaps  be  very  dangerous 
for  any  one  else  to  attempt  the  reproduction  of  gestures  unless 
they  conveyed  as  vividly  the  terrific  idea. 

It  was  not  till  after  fifteen  years  bad  elapsed  that  Eachel 
e  rose  to  P]icdre,  and  presented  that  extraordinary  combination 
of  pagan  passion  and  Christian  remorse,  where  Eui-ipides  ap- 
pears to  have  inspired  Racine,  and  to  which  an  Athenian  au- 
dience of  his  day  would  have  listened  with  as  great  delight 
and  surprise  as  the  enthusiastic  Parisians  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

It  need  scarcely  be  added  that  the  fascinating  actress  ce- 
mented anew  her  empire,  and  was  recalled  with  deafening 
applause. 

On  the  6th  of  June,  the  celebration  of  the  anniversary  of 
Corneille's  birth-day,  the  inauguration  of  which  Avas  due  to 
Mademoiselle  Eachel,  took  place  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais. 
The  tragedy  was  "  Les  Horaces."  Between  the  acts  the  tra- 
gedienne recited  a  poem  in  honor  of  Corneille,  "La  Muse  His- 
torique,"  by  M.  Theodore  de  Bauville.  Language  has  been 
exhausted  to  convey  an  idea  of  Rachel's  Camille.  Nothing 
has  been  left  unsaid.  Whatever  might  be  the  rank  assigned 
by  the  author  to  his  personages,  the  actress  took  the  first  for 
hers.  Voltaire  considered  the  end  of  the  fourth  act  as  an 
episode ;  with  Mademoiselle  Rachel  it  was  a  second  play,  so 
new,  so  eloquent,  so  appalling,  that  it  effaced  all  remembrance 


MEMOIRS   Of   RACHEI-.  283 

of  the  first,  and  when  she  had  finished  all  seemed  to  end  with 
her,  for  the  public  thought  neither  of  the  old  father  nor  of  the 
youthful  victor,  nor  of  Sabine,  nor  o{  Emile,  still  less  of  Valcre, 
or  of  the  salvation  of  Rome  too  cheaply  puixhased  with  the 
grief  and  desolation  of  a  single  house. 

In  Corneille  the  episode  begins  with  the  monologue  of 
Camille.  With  Mademoiselle  Eachel  the  play  begins  with  the 
first  scene  of  the  fourth  act.  And  when,  too,  Valere  relates 
the  combat  that  ends  with  her  lover's  death,  the  mute  but  ter- 
rifically eloquent  by-play  of  the  actress  engrossed  all  the  atten- 
tion of  the  public.  No  one  thought  of  the  old  man  who  had 
lost  his  two  brave  sons,  but  gained  eternal  honor  by  the  third ; 
all  the  tragedy  was  in  the  brow,  the  sinking  form  of  Camille. 

That  which  constituted  the'  superiority  of  Kachel  Avas  the 
unique,  the  superlative  grace  that  was  in  every  motion — a 
gi'ace  that  no  violence  of  passion  coidd  annul.  This  grace, 
mingling  with  the  terror  she  so  readily  conveyed  to  every 
heart,  acted  like  a  magical  charm  that  subdued  and  ravished 
all  who  saw  her,  yet  was  inexplicable  to  the  very  ones  who 
acknowledged  its  influence. 

She  risked  every  thing  and  seemed  to  risk  nothing.  She 
dared  more  than  the  author;  she  went  beyond  him  in  reality, 
yet  she  had  so  completely  the  art  of  assimilating  what  she  did 
to  the  tragedy  itself,  that  she  and  it  were  identified.  She 
dallied  with  the  agonies  of  the  flesh.  She  imitated  to  perfec- 
tion the  work  of  physical  destruction,  and  yet  the  body,  the 
obedient  instrument  of  her  will,  which  reproduced  with  such 
frightful  truth  the  shivering,  the  convulsive  throes  of  approach- 
ing death,  transformed  that  horror  into  an  ideal  of  grace. 
Every  one  has  witnessed  the  scene  ;  there  is  nothing  new,  and 
yet  the  effect  is  as  powerful  the  last  as  the  first  time ;  there 
was  a  something  there  that  could  neither  weaken  nor  fall. 

With  Mademoiselle  Rachel  there  was  no  counting  of  time, 
of  lines,  of  verses;  the  real  tragedy  was  in  her  heart,  and  the 
spectator  followed  its  action  on  her  brow,  in  her  motions;  ac- 
cording to  her  inspiration,  she  gave  you  at  times  a  whole 
scene  in  a  line,  in  a  word.  Her  deepest  dejection,  her  weak- 
ness, were  full  of  might.  However  crushed  she  appeared  by 
the  blow,  you  felt  instinctively  she  would  pass  suddenly  from 


284  aiEMOiRS  OP  rachel. 

that  prostration  to  the  extreme  of  fury ;  that  the  violence  of 
the  passion  would  outstep  all  limits  ;  that  amid  this  wild  rage, 
this  apparently  ungovernable  outbreak,  there  was  a  strong 
will  curbing  and  subduing  it  all :  there  was  inspiration  guided 
by  study,  passionate  ardor  restrained  by  cool  judgment. 

This  part  always  remained  a  favorite  one  with  the  tixigedi- 
enne.  WheiTver  she  went,  she  made  her  debut  in  it  on  every 
stage.  It  was  in  this  i-ule  she  appeared  on  the  most  impor- 
tant day  of  her  life — that  which  decided  her  fate — that  on 
which  the  doors  of  the  temple  were  first  opened  to  admit  its 
future  priestess — that  on  which  she  was  to  set  foot  for  the 
first  time  on  the  stage  that  was  to  see  her  so  triumphant. 

For  the  following  account  of  the  scene  we  have  the  author- 
ity of  Monsieur  Janin : 

It  was  the  summer  of  1838.  Some  half  a  dozen  persons 
had  assembled  in  the  darkened  theatre,  glad  to  escape  the 
blaze  of  the  noon-day  sun,  but  anxious  to  get  through  the 
wearisome  task  before  them — that  of  hearing,  for  the  hund- 
redth time,  perhaps,  the  finest  poetry  in  the  French  language 
marred  by  the  wretched  delivery  of  a  new  claimant  of  the 
three  debuts  granted  to  those  deemed  worthy :  the  judges  were 
to  decide  whether  the  public  should  be  called  to  endure  the 
ennui  they  had  themselves  tested. 

The  appearance  of  the  neophyte  was  not  prepossessing. 
Scant,  mean  apparel,  a  pale  face  and  meagre  figure,  betokened 
a  childhood  spent  amid  the  want  and  privations  attendant  on 
poverty,  and  gave  the  idea  that  at  that  very  moment  the  girl 
might  be  suffering  from  hunger.  What  could  be  hoped  from 
such  a  source  ?  Who  would  have  ventured  to  prophesy  that  the 
shadow  before  them  was  the  reality  and  the  life — the  resur- 
rection of  the  art ;  that  the  gruff"  but  weak  voice  was  to  say 
to  the  slumbering  poets.  Arise  and  follow  me  ?  The  assembled 
judges  were  there  as  a  matter  of  form,  to  get  through  an  in- 
dispensable task ;  not  from  any  conviction  of  its  use,  for  they 
had  ceased  to  believe  in  the  return  of  the  tragic  Muse  since 
she  had  fled  bearing  in  the  folds  of  her  tunic  her  last  repre- 
sentatives. Talma  and  Duchesnois. 

The  girl  came  forward,  but,  contrary  to  all  expectations, 
she  did  not,  with  frantic  gestures,  bawling  voice,  and  time- 
consecrated  emphasis,  give  the 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  285 

"Rome  !  I'unique  objet !  de  mon  ressentiment!" 
with  eyes  that  suddenly  gleamed  like  living  coals  in  their  dark 
orbits.     She  uttered  in  a  low,  deep,  firm  tone,  as  though  she 
spoke  to  herself,  words  tliat  really  doomed  to  destruction  the 
proud  city : 

"Eome  Tunique  objet  de  mou  ressentiment." 

It  was  evident  this  was  no  mere  transitory  anger,  no  burst 
of  evanescent  fury.  There  was  a  depth  of  passion,  of  concen- 
trated, earnest,  implacable  resentment,  the  more  fearful  as  it 
was  not  violently  demonstrative  ;  indeed,  there  was  hardly  a 
gesture  ;  but,  as  she  proceeded  in  those  terrific  anathemas,  the 
impression  on  the  hearers  was  that  made  by  the  approaching 
storm — at  first  low  and  distant,  but  coming  nearer  and  nearer 
at  every  fearful  peal,  and  finally  bursting  over  their  heads,  scat- 
tering ruin  and  destruction.  Each  of  the  astonished  judges 
looked  at  his  neighbor's  face  to  read  his  thoughts.  The  wisest 
deemed  the  thing  accidental,  a  freak  of  chance.  None  there 
saw  the  signs  of  a  revolution.  All  agreed  to  give  the  girl  the 
solicited  permission  to  play  thrice  on  their  stage ;  after  which 
they  went  to  dinner,  and  thought  no  more  about  it. 


CHAPTER  XX^ail. 

1854. 

The  first  real  Affliction. — Death  of  Rebecca  Felix. — The  Rosary. — 
The  "Pardon." — Miss  Sniithson. — Mademoiselle  Sontag. — A  Warn- 
ing.— A  Letter  from  M.  Legouve. — Letters  from  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel and  her  Secretary. — Mademoiselle  Rachel  condemned  to  play 
"Medee." — Mademoiselle  Rachel  doesn't  play  "Medee." — "Rose- 
monde." — Another  Miscalculation. 

AinD  these  continual  triumphs,  obtained,  as  it  were,  against 
the  will  of  the  very  ones  who  contributed  their  meed  of  ap- 
plause, a  great  grief,  the  first  real  one  that  had  ever  been  felt 
by  the  tragedienne  during  the  course  of  her  feted  and  brilliant 
career,  interrupted  this  happy  life,  this  long  summer's  day. 
Her  favorite  sister  Eebecca  died. 

Rebecca  Felix,  when  in  her  fifteenth  year,  in  1843,  made 
her  debut  in  Chhncne.  She  continued  some  time  to  act  in 
tragedy,  but  good  sense,  personified  in  the  person  of  her  father. 


286  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

soon  saw  an  imminent  danger  in  her  following  in  the  footsteps 
of  a  sister  who  had  already  taken  the  first  place  in  that  branch 
of  dramatic  art.  The  lesser  light  could  not  fail  to  be  lost  in 
the  stronger  rays  of  the  greater  luminary.  Rebecca  could  at 
best  be  but  a  faint  copy  of  her  sister.  Her  vocation  was, 
therefore,  very  judiciously  altered,  and  she  entered  the  easier 
walks  of  the  drama  and  of  comedy.  Her  last  and  best  effort 
was  in  "  Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle."  But  a  long  complaint 
that  had  succeeded  a  typhus  fever  cut  short  a  career  which,  if 
it  did  not  promise  to  be  as  brilliant  as  that  of  her  sister,  gave 
hope  of  some  distinction. 

Rebecca  was — and  deservedly  so — the  favorite  sister  of  the 
tragedienne.  We  have  seen,  by  her  letter  to  M.  Legouve,  that 
on  her  return  from  Russia  she  had  hastened  to  visit  the  dear 
sufferer  tlien  in  the  Pyrenees,  where  she  Avas  waiting  to  take 
the  Eaux  Bonnes.  When  her  conge  expired  she  was  com- 
pelled to  resume  her  duties  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais.  She 
continued,  notwithstanding,  her  watchful  cai'e  over  her  sister, 
and,  while  acting  twice  a  week,  managed  to  perform  the  jour- 
ney to  and  fro  thrice  in  as  many  weeks. 

An  incident  occurred  during  one  of  these  flying  trips  which 
proves  not  only  the  excitable  nature  of  Rachel,  but  also  that 
the  visit  to  the  Vatican  had  made  a  more  permanent  impres- 
sion than  was  supposed. 

The  disease,  according  to  the  wont  of  that  treacherous  mal- 
ady, had  appeared  to  take  a  favorable  turn ;  the  alarming 
symptoms  had  momentarily  vanished ;  the  patient  was  sud- 
denly relieved.  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  who  had  been  a  con- 
stant attendant  for  some  days,  took  the  opportunity  to  go  and 
see  Sarah,  who  was  confined  by  some  temporary  indisposition 
to  her  own  lodgings.  Several  friends  were  assembled  in  the 
room,  and,  exhilarated  by  the  good  news  she  had  brought  and 
the  hopes  all  hastened  to  build  on  the  change.  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  began  to  chat  and  laugh  quite  merrily.  In  the  midst 
of  this  exuberant  gayety  her  maid  broke  into  the  room  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement :  a  fit  had  come  on  ;  the  patient  was 
in  much  danger  ;  the  physician  desired  Mademoiselle  Rachel's 
immediate  presence.  Rising  with  the  bound  of  a  wounded 
tigress,  the  ti-agedienne  seemed  to  seek,  bewildered,  some  cause 


MEMOIRS    OF    RA.CHEL.  287 

for  the  blow  that  fell  thus  unexpectedly.  Her  eye  lighted  on 
a  I'osaiy  blessed  by  the  Pope,  and  which  she  had  worn  round 
her  arm  as  a  bracelet  ever  since  her  visit  to  Konie.  Without 
perhaps,  accounting  to  herself  for  the  belief,  she  had  attached 
some  talisraanic  virtue  to  the  beads.  Now,  however,  in  the 
height  of  her  rage  and  disappointment,  she  tore  them  from 
her  wrist,  and,  dashing  them  to  the  ground,  exclaimed,  "  Oh  ! 
fatal  gift !  'tis  thou  hast  entailed  this  curse  upon  me  !"  With 
these  words  she  sprang  out  of  the  room,  leaving  every  one  in 
mute  astonishment  at  her  frantic  action. 

On  the  23d  of  June,  four  sisters  and  a  mother  brought  back 
to  the  father's  house  in  Paris  the  body  of  the  lamented  lost 
one.  On  the  day  of  the  burial  a  scene  took  place  of  the  most 
moving  description,  and  in  which  the  different  tempers  of  two 
of  the  survivors  were  brought  to  light  very  forcibly. 

There  is  a  rite  among  the  Jews  denominated  the  Pardon. 
Before  the  body  of  a  deceased  child  of  Israel  is  carried  out  to 
be  buried,  the  relatives,  one  after  the  other,  go  up  to  it,  and, 
calling  out  the  name  several  times,  invoke  forgiveness  for  any 
ill  examples  or  ill  treatment  they  may  have  been  guilty  of  to- 
ward tl>e  deceased  when  living,  ending  with  the  repetition  three 
times  of  the  word  pardon  !  pardon  !  pardon !  When  it  came 
to  Sarah's  turn,  the  consciousness  of  her  manifold  errors  came 
over  her  with  terrible  force,  and,  joined  to  the  horror  and  grief 
of  the  moment,  so  overpowered  that  sensitive,  excitable,  pas- 
sionate nature,  that,  falling  prostrate  on  the  ground,  she 
shrieked  the  name  of  the  dead  one  in  heart-rending  tones, 
calling  with  sobs  and  tears  for  forgiveness. 

There  were  two  strangers  present,  two  Christians,  the  actor 
Laferriere  and  a  lady.  When  Sarah  was  raised  and  taken 
out,  the  mother  said  hurriedly  to  the  Christians,  "  It  is  Rachel's 
turn  now ;  for  God's  sake,  go ;  do  not  look  at  her — do  not 
stop." 

*'No,"  added  young  Dinah,  "don't  stay;  don't  let  Rachel 
think  you  watch  her."  The  consciousness  all  the  family  had 
of  Rachel's  reserved,  peculiar  disposition,  and  the  respect  with 
which  they  submitted  to  its  exactions,  is  surprising. 

The  strangers  of  course  withdrew,  but  not  before  they  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Rachel,  led  by  her  father,  approaching 


288  ME3IOIRS    OF    RACHKL. 

mute,  with  brow  deeply  gathered,  while  all  the  other  members 
of  the  family  stood  aside,  seemingly  dreading  what  was  com- 


ing 


Mademoiselle  Rachel  withdrew  into  Belgium  after  this  loss. 
Her  health  required  change  of  scene,  and  she  chose  Brussels, 
that  she  might  be  near  the  physician  in  whom  she  placed  most 

reliance. 

Miss  Smithson,  the  English  actress  who  had  made  so  favor- 
able an  impression  in  PVance,  died  in  the  spring  of  this  year. 
The  French  critics  exhausted  every  expression  of  regret  on 
this  untimely  loss. 

But  in  the  autumn  the  news  reached  Europe  of  a  death 
that  was  more  deeply  felt  than  either  of  the  preceding  ones — 
that  of  Henrietta  Sontag,  Countess  Rossi.     Though  the  world- 
wide celebrated  cantatrice  had  fulfilled  the  career,  in  regard  to 
years,  of  a  singer — though  hers  could  not  be  called  a  prema- 
ture loss,  like  those  of  the  two  actresses  carried  off,  the  one  in 
the  full  flush  of  youth,  the  other  in  the  maturity  of  her  talent, 
there  Avere  circumstances  attending  it  that  rendered  it  far 
more  sad  and  gloomy  than  theirs.     This  noble-hearted  woman, 
venturing  again  on  the  scene  of  former  triumphs  at  the  risk 
of  withering  the  laurels  of  past  yeai'S  and  annihilating  the  very 
memory  of  her  fame,  seeking  in  a  neAV  world  to  recuperate  the 
loss  of  fortune  entailed  on  her  children,  and  dying  in  that  far- 
distant  land  away  from  those  for  whom  she  struggled  so  val- 
iantly and  whom  she  loved  so  dearly,  left  deep  regrets  in  the 
hearts  of  all  those  who  had  known  her.     The  amiability  and 
kindness  of  her  disposition,  her  conduct  as  a  Avife  and  as  a  moth- 
er, had  Avon  her  as  much  love  and  respect  in  private  life  as  her 
vocal  talents  had  fame  and  admiration  in  her  public  career. 
From  the  Grand-Duke,  Avho  does  honor  to  her  memory  with 
the  crown  of  silver  laurels  he  deposits  on  her  coffin,  to  the 
poor  Avaiting-maid  Avho  Avith  tears  continually  recalls  the  con- 
stant goodness  of  her  mistress,  the  laments  her  loss  occasioned 
Avere  heard  from  the  lips  of  all  Avho  had  been  privileged  to 
approach  h*er. 

This  year,  too,  died  one  Avhose  life  and  end  contrast  sadly 
Avith  the  last,  and  should  be  a  useful  lesson  to  the  young  and 
presumptuous,  who  deem  that  headstrong  will  and  ambition 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  289 

constitute  power,  were  thej  ever  willing  to  take  warning  from 
such  terrible  examples. 

"NVliile  Mademoiselle  I^chel  was  throning  at  the  Theatre 
Fran^ais  in  the  full  maturity  of  her  powers,  and  receivino' 
more  applause  and  broad  pieces  than  any  of  her  predecessors 
had  ever  done,  one,  who  at  the  very  commencement  of  her 
successful  career  had  attempted  competition  with  her,  was  ex- 
piring on  board  a  miserable  craft  bound  for  that  refwjium  pec- 
ccUorum,  California.  The  body,  wrapped  in  an  old  sail,  with 
a  huge  mass  of  coal  as  weight,  and  thrown  into  the  deep  with 
few  regrets  and  fewer  prayers,  was  all  that  remained  of  the 
once  gay,  vain,  handsome  Helena  Gaussin. 

Like  many  other  unfortunates  who,  in  the  outset  of  life, 
mistake  high  spirits,  minds  impatient  of  restraint,  and  confi- 
dent self-esteem  for  the  qualities  that  insure  success,  and  im- 
agine that  bright  eyes  and  fine  forms  will  compensate  the  lack 
of  good  sense,  judgment,  and  experience,  Helena  had  added 
one  more  to  the  host  of  aspirants  who,  allured  by  the  marvel- 
ous good  fortune  of  the  young  Jewess,  deemed  that  they  also 
were  entitled  to  dispute  the  scenic  palm.  She  bore  a  name 
that  was  in  itself  a  title,  but  she  justified  it  only  in  its  worst 
acceptation,  and  imitated  her  famous  homomjme  only  in  the 
foibles  that  obscured  her  artistic  fame  ;  for  of  the  great  points 
that  distinguished  the  Mademoiselle  Gaussin  of  1731,  her 
namesake  of  1840  possessed  not  one. 

Those  who  saw  her  in  her  debuts  in  classic  tragedy  at  the 
Ode'on,  mistaking  her  eclat,  her  dashing  style,  for  inspiration, 
for  Xhe.  feu  sacre,  admiring  her  splendid  stature  and  regal  gait, 
prophesied  a  second  Mademoiselle  Georges.  She  certainly  re- 
called her  beauty,  but  not  her  talent.  She  made  no  progress, 
though  she  had  numerous  opportunities  of  advancement,  had 
she  possessed  the  requisite  qualities.  Unfortunately,  she 
could  not  see  where  the  fault  really  was.  Of  an  excitable 
temper,  extreme  in  good  or  evil,  and  ungovernable  in  either 
case,  she  threw  the  blame  of  her  defeat  on  her  whom  she  de- 
nominated her  rival,  Rachel,  and  attempted  revenge  by  hissing 
her.  This  impotent  expression  of  rage  sealed  her  fate.  After 
the  scene  of  tumult  and  disorder  to  which  her  unbridled  rage 
had  given  rise,  she  was  forcibly  expelled,  and  the  doors  of  the 

N 


290  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

Theatre  Fran9ais  were  forever  closed  against  her.  She  took 
refuge  in  the  provinces,  and  reigned  there  with  uncontrolled 
sway  for  some  time.  Her  next  appearance  in  the  columns  of  the 
newspapers  was  in  a  very  different  character — to  her  name 
was  attached  the  ignominious  epithet  of  thief.  The  Merope 
had  stolen  dinner-plate.  Athalie  had  enveloped  her  diadem 
in  the  greasy  napkins  of  a  restaurante.  When  she  came  out 
of  prison  a  man  was  found  generous  enough  to  give  his  name 
to  conceal  her  shame.  But  nothing  could  save  her.  Once 
again  she  was  on  the  police  sheets  for  theft;  once  more  that 
beautiful  hair  was  cut,  and  she  was  sent  to  keep  company 
with  the  lowest  and  most  abandoned  of  her  sex. 

Mistaken  vanity  had  crazed  the  Aveak  brains,  and  the  next 
time  poor  Helena  was  heard  of  was  in  the  role  of  a  prophet- 
ess, preaching  a  new  gospel,  receiving  communications  from 
the  divinity.  In  1848  she  was  apprehended  on  the  Barri- 
cades, where,  with  waving  banner  and  frantic  words,  this  Tisi- 
phone  was  inciting  the  populace  to  deeds  of  blood. 

It  was  then  that  some  charitable  persons,  pitying  the  deg- 
radation and  wretchedness  of  the  poor  outcast,  obtained 
means  for  her  to  be  sent  to  California,  and  it  was  on  her  way 
thither  that,  worn  out  by  excesses  of  every  description,  alone 
and  friendless,  the  unhappy  creature  died,  having,  in  the  course 
of  an  existence  that  lasted  but  thirty  years,  run  the  gauntlet 
of  every  sin  and  every  shame. 

Notwithstanding  the  last-announced  resignation.  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel  reappeared  on  the  18th  of  September  in  the  role  of 
Marie  Stuart,  playing  with  a  perfection  of  entente  de  la  scene 
that  she  had  never  before  displayed  in  this,  one  of  the  greatest 
of  Schiller's  conceptions — one  which  the  French  translator 
could  not  wholly  spoil. 

But,  while  Mademoiselle  Rachel  delighted  the  public,  in 
whose  good  graces  she  now  seemed  completely  reinstated,  she 
had  either  forgotten,  or  she  did  not  choose  to  remember,  that 
in  the  month  of  April  she  had  written  to  M.  Legouve,  "  At 
the  expu'ation  of  my  conge  I  will  undertake  'Medee.'"  M. 
Legouve  had  not  the  same  motives  for  short  memory,  and, 
seeing  she  took  no  notice  of  him  or  his  production,  though 
she  had  made  her  rentrce  in  May,  ventured  to  recall  it  to  her. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  291 

She  again  sought  an  excuse  in  her  sister's  illness ;  her  grief 
incapacitated  her  from  studying  a  new  rule.  But  the  subter- 
fuge was  of  no  avail ;  the  poet  would  be  put  off  no  longer, 
and  returned  the  following  answer,  written  in  a  spirit  of  in- 
flexibility quite  foreign  to  his  nature,  but  always  within  the 
limits  of  courtesy  he  was  incapable  of  outstepping : 

"  Dear  Madabie, — No  one  can  sympathize  more  deeply 
with  the  sorrows  of  others  than  one  who,  like  myself,  has  ex' 
perienced  similar  ones,  and  I  also  know  how  much  courage  is 
required  to  undertake  any  kind  of  occupation  when  the  heart 
is  full  of  anxiety.  But,  alas  !  the  stern  law  of  necessity  gov- 
erns us  all.  We  are  all  compelled  to  pursue  the  exercise  of 
our  profession  amid  anxieties  of  all  kinds,  and  I  may  add  that 
this  necessity  of  labor  is  perhaps  the  only  real  alleviation  of 
deep  grief. 

"  You  have  had  within  your  own  knowledge  a  very  striking 
proof  of  this.  Four  years  ago,  one  of  your  most  honorable 
comrades,  M.  Regnier,  lost  his  daughter ;  but  he  had  promised 
M.  Augier  he  would  play  in  '  Gabrielle,'  and  the  success  he 
obtained  in  that  play  was  all  the  more  gratifying  from  the 
consciousness  that  in  subduing  a  grief  he  had  accomplished  a 
duty  and  obliged  a  friend. 

"  I  can  well  understand,  dear  madame,  that  in  the  first  mo- 
ments of  grjef  the  recent  sight  of  the  dear  patient  occasions 
you  should  dread  the  creation  of  a  new  role,  but  I  am  also 
sure  that  on  reflection  you  will  acknowledge  that  we  have  no 
right  to  sacrifice  the  interests  of  others  to  any  private  con- 
siderations of  our  own,  even  the  most  legitimate,  and  that 
you  will  seek  support  in  an  increased  devotion  to  the  duties 
incumbent  upon  you  and  in  the  interests  which  have  been 
confided  to  you. 

"  This  is,  perhaps,  a  very  serious  letter,  dear  madame,  but 
I  know  to. whom  I  write  it.  I  may  add  that  it  is  even  in  the 
name  of  your  dear  sister  herself  that  I  ask  you  to  resume 
again  the  rehearsals  of '  Medee.'  You  know  she  liked  the 
work,  and  already  foresaw  you  in  it  full  of  passion  and  pathos. 
Give  her,  then,  the  greatest  pleasure  she  can  owe  you,  the 
news  of  a  new  success  obtained  by  you. 

"  I  remain.  &c„  Lerouve." 


292  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

This  letter  made  no  impression  on  her  to  -whom  it  was  ad- 
dressed. Seeing,  however,  that  the  position  was  becoming 
one  of  immediate  difficulty,  she  had  recourse  to  the  ordinary 
and  extraordinary  diplomatic  negotiations.  She  commissioned 
the  disci'eet  and  skillful  agent  who  had  been  the  former  medi- 
um of  communication  to  signify  her  ultimatum  to  M.Legouve, 
and  with  this  object  addressed  to  Mademoiselle  de  Saigneville 
a  letter,  which  the  latter  was  to  show  to  the  author,  but  not 
leave  in  his  hands. 

Mademoiselle  de  Saiejieville  commenced  on  the  20th  of 
September  her  negotiation  as  follows : 

"  It  is  with  the  deepest  grief,  dear  M.  Legouve,  that  I  send 
you  my  friend's  letter  (I  beg  you  will  return  it  as  soon  as  you 
have  read  it). 

"I  will  not  seek  to  justify  Rachel's  conduct  toward  you. 
You  see  that  she  herself  acknowledges  her  fault,  and  that  she 
is  right  in  believing  that  I  give  her  a  great  proof  of  my  at- 
tachment in  consenting  to  communicate  so  sad  a  resolution  to 
you.  But  believe  me,  do  not  insist ;  make  this  sacrifice  to  the 
future.  She  has  obtained  another  leave  of  absence.  She  will 
return  again  next  year,  and,  if  you  are  generous  enough  to  re- 
main her  friend,  how  powerful  Avill  be  your  right  to  make  her 
play  in  some  other  work !  She  has  resolved  never  to  create 
another  modern  tragic  part.  She  says  the  ar^pient  classic 
repertory  will  furnish  her  with  more  characters  than  she  can 
create.     (And  here  she  may  be  right.) 

"  Come,  now,  be  noble  and  generous ;  set  to  work,  write 
for  her  an  interesting  drama,  such  as  you  know  so  well  how 
to  make,  and  we  shall  all  be  happy.  Saigneville." 

The  letter  alluded  to  as  accompanying  the  above  ran  as  fol- 
lows: 

"  Dear  Louise, — I  come  to  beg  you  will  undertake  a  mis- 
sion to  M.  Lesrouve.  I  know  well  how  disagreeable  it  will 
be  to  you,  but  you  have  so  accustomed  me  to  your  kind  of- 
fices that  I  do  not  fear  to  rely  on  them  in  such  a  case  of  ne- 
cessity. 


MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  293 

"  T  positively  can  not  Y>hiy  Meclce.  It  is  in  vain  that  I  have 
rndcavored  to  undertake  it.  I  have  gone  so  far  as  to  learn 
all  the  first  act,  but  I  have  such  an  antipathy  to  the  part  that 
it  were  vain  for  me  to  expect  sympathy  in  a  character  that  is 
almost  odious,  and  that  is  too  Avell  known  to  cause  any  sensa- 
tion in  the  public,  even  in  the  most  terrific  passages.  You 
see,  dear  friend,  what  a  task  I  am  giving  you.  I  dare  not 
write  to  M.  Legouvd,  fearing  he  should  come  to  me  imme- 
diately, and  indeed  I  am  not  sufliciently  restored  to  my  usual 
health  to  look  at  and  listen*  coolly  to  the  almost  deserved  re- 
proaches which  the  author  of  '  Medee'  has  perhaps  a  right  to 
make,  for  I  have  accepted  the  role  ;  I  have  even  rehearsed  it 
twice  at  the  theatre ;  but,  although  I  may  have  been  tenfold 
wrong,  I  can  not  bind  myself  to  play  well  a  part  unsuited  to 
my  tragic  powers.  I  can  not,  therefore,  go  forward  and  risk 
a  failure  when  the  moment  when  I  shall  quit  the  stage  is  not 
far  distant. 

"  Go  and  see,  or  write  to  M.  Legouve.  What  I  exact  of 
your  love  for  me,  for  out*  Adrienne,  is  that  M.  Legouve  will 
still  remain  my  friend,  despite  the  vexation  I  cause  him,  and 
which  I  so  earnestly  desire  to  cancel  some  day. 

"'Les  Horaces'  greatly  fatigued  me  this  evening.  To- 
morrow I  shall  go  and  breathe  the  air  of  Montmorency ;  for 
Heaven's  sake,  use  your  endeavors  that  M.  Legouve  be  not 
too  angry  with  me.  You  know  how  very  little  suffices  to 
shake  my  poor  nerves  and  cause  me  great  suffering. 

"I  am  your  devoted  friend;  prove  to  me  on  this  occasion 
that  I  can  also  rely  on'you.  Rachel." 

This  desire,  so  coaxingly  expressed,  to  be  friends  with  the 
author,  even  the  tender  allusion  to  his  play,  "our  Adrienne" 
all  was  insufficient  to  fool  him  any  longer ;  his  patience  was 
exhausted,  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  again  sued  to  appear 
on  the  19  th  of  October. 

In  the  mean  while  she  continued  to  play  her  classic  roles, 
delighting  the  numerous  spectators  who,  attracted  by  the  Ex- 

*  When  Mademoiselle  Hachel  sent  this  letter  it  is  probable  she  had 
not  her  usual  secretary  at  hand,  and  was  obliged  to  indite  as  well  as 
write  it  herself. 


294  MEMOIRS   OF    RACHEL. 

position  Universelle  from  every  part  of  Europe  to  Paris,  took 
that  opportunity  of  hearing  her.  The  poor  young  woman  lit- 
tle foresaw  that  this  was  the  last  season  but  one  she  would  be 
permitted  to  display  her  talent  on  the  French  stage,  on  which, 
had  she  been  less  grasping,  less  eager  for  rapid  gains,  she 
might  have  pursued  a  longer,  more  lasting,  and  moi-e  glorious 
career. 

In  the  mean  while  the  day  appointed  for  the  trial  arrived. 
On  the  18th  of  October  the  hall  of  the  Tribunal  de  Premiere 
Instance  was  crowded.  M.  de  Belleyme,  a  magistrate  as  well 
known  for  his  strict  principles  of  justice  as  for  his  love  of  arts, 
presided.  The  born  champion  of  the  victims  of  their  passions 
and  of  artists  of  every  kind,  M.  Chaix-d'Est-Ange,  was  there, 
ready  to  cover  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  sins  with  the  folds  of 
his  toga,  while  M.  Mathieu,  a  clever  and  witty  young  lawyer, 
was  appointed  to  expose  the  griefs  suffered  by  M.  Lcgouve. 

The  task  of  the  latter  was  not  a  difficult  one,  for  the  proofs 
were  numerous  and  clear. 

The  orator  thought  proper  to  take  up  the  matter  in  hand 
from  the  beginning  of  the  friendship  that  had  existed  between 
his  client  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  Having  dwelt  on  the 
motives  that  had  given  rise  to  that  friendship,  and  entitled  the 
author  to  some  gratitude  on  the  part  of  the  actress,  he  gave 
the  origin  of  "  Medee,"  written  at  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  re- 
quest, enthusiastically  applauded  by  her  and  the  competent 
areopagus  assembled  in  her  salon  to  decide  on  its  merits,  in 
confirmation  of  which,  letters  were  read  addressed  to  M.  Le- 
gouve  by  Messieurs  Henri,  Martin,  and  Charlton  ;  the  subse- 
quent reception  of  the  play  by  the  comite  de  lecture  of  the  the- 
atre and  its  rehearsel  there,  also  corroborated  by  letters  from 
Messieurs  Haitland,  Regnier,  Maubant,  and  Davesne.  M. 
Mathieu  then  related  the  fickle  conduct  of  the  actress,  her 
several  capricious  refusals,  her  want  of  good  faith,  the  conde- 
scension of  M.  Legouve  on  the  eve  of  her  departure  for  Russia. 

"  He  was  not  aware,"  exclaimed  the  eloquent  advocate, 
"  that  this  great  artiste,  whose  excursion  had  cost  the  Theatre 
Frantjais  more  than  200,000  francs,  had  another  god  besides 
her  art.  He  was  soon  obliged  to  recognize  that,  for  her,  the 
stage  was  but  a  means — gold  was  her  aim." 


JIEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  295 

He  then  stigmatized  her  conduct  toward  France,  to  whom 
she  Avas  bound,  who  could  have  opposed  her  voyage  to  Russia, 
and  yet  who  generously  furthered  it,  receiving  in  return  as  a 
testimonial  of  the  actress's  gratitude  the  notification  of  her 
resignation  on  her  return.  M.  Legouve  shared  the  same  fate  ; 
he,  too,  was  rewarded  for  all  the  proofs  of  devoted  friendship 
he  had  shown  her  by  the  notification  that  "decidedly  she 
could  not  play  Mcdce" 

The  orator  concluded  by  saying  that  French  literature  was 
interested  in  the  question. 

"It  must  not,"  said  he,  "be  left  to  the  mercy  of  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel's  caprices.  It  was  not  thus  that  Talma  acted. 
Many  authors  have  had  cause  to  complain  of  Mademoiselle 
Rachel's  fantastic  versatility.  She  also  refused  to  play  '  La 
Fille  du  Cid'  after  accepting  the  part.  '  Virginie,'  '  Char- 
lotte Corday,'  'Fredcgonde  and  Brunehaut'  were  alike  accepted, 
rejected,  and  accepted  again  without  reason.  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  must  be  compelled,  under  some  severe  penalty,  to  keep 
her  ensasements.  It  is  much  to  excite  admiration,  but  esteem 
is  of  more  value ;  and  nothing  can  make  amends  for  want  of 
integrity,  not  even  glory." 

The  case  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was  a  difficult  one  to  de- 
fend, and  with  all  his  skill  M.  Chaix-d'Est-Ange  could  not 
prove  that  she  had  not  solicited  M.  Legouve''s  tragedy,  that 
she  had  not  personally  approved  and  applauded  it,  that  she 
had  not  caused  it  to  be  rehearsed,  had  not  taken  her  part  and 
distributed  the  others,  and  that,  after  numerous  and  long  de- 
lays, she  had  not,  under  fallacious  pretenses,  refused  the  Avork. 

The  only  part  of  his  plea  in  which  he  could  retort  with 
some  show  of  success  his  adversary's  arguments  was  when  he 
endeavored  to  answer  the  reproach  that  Rachel  had  but  one 
idol — gold.  He  insisted  that  the  reproach  was  equally  ap- 
plicable to  the  other  side. 

"  Mademoiselle  Rachel,"  said  he,  "  is  accused  of  loving  gold 
beyond  all  things,  beyond  her  art,  beyond  her  glory.  Gold  is 
her  god.  Yet  we  notice  that  M.  Legouve  has  not  for  gold 
the  contempt  he  would  lead  us  to  infer  he  had.  lie  begins 
by  claiming  40,000  francs  damages.  It  Avould  ill  become  him 
to  affect  indifference  for  pecuniary  interests.  No,  no ;  gold 
for  him  is  no  chimera." 


296  IMEMOIRS    OF   RACHKL. 

M.  Legouve,  however,  immediately  paralyzed  the  effect  of 
this  argument  ad  hominem,  by  declaring  that  he  had  fixed  the 
amount  for  the  sake  of  form  only  ;  that  he  renounced  it  alto- 
gether, and  left  the  penalty  entirely  to  the  discretion  of  the 
tribunal. 

The  court  decided  against  Mademoiselle  Kachel,  who  was 
to  resume  and  continue  "on  the  days  designated  by  the  man- 
agement of  the  Theatre  Francjais"  the  rehearsals  of  "Medee," 
and  act  the  part  designated  for  her  by  the  author,  or  in  de- 
fault thereof  to  pay  to  M.  Legouve  damages  to  the  amount 
of  200  francs  for  every  day  she  delayed  doing  so,  and  that 
during  two  months,  after  which  a  farther  decision  would  be 
taken.  i 

This  decision  would  seem,  at  first  sight,  very  satisfactory  to 
M.  Legouve  ;  it  was,  however,  followed  by  no  result,  the  man- 
agement of  the  Theatre  Frangais,  to  whom  was  left  the  right 
of  appointing  the  days  of  rehearsal,  having  failed  to  do  so. 
It  was  not  until  some  time  after  that  M.  Legouve  was  to 
obtain  a  more  adequate  compensation  for  the  injury  he  had 
sustained. 

As  for  Mademoiselle  Eachel,  she  was  on  the  eve  of  finding 
in  her  very  ingratitude  its  severe  and  deserved  punishment. 
If  she  had  disdained  the  charms  of  "  Medee,"  it  was  not  on 
account  of  the  little  failings  and  misdeeds  of  the  enchantress, 
but  because  she  had  been  allured  by  a  dame  of  like  gentle 
temper,  one  Rosemonde ;  not  the  fair  Rosamond  of  English 
ballads  and  tradition,  Avhose  ijcauty  was  fatal  to  herself  alone, 
but  a  Lombard  queen  whom  M.  Latour  de  St.  Ybars  aroused 
from  her  peaceful  slumbers  in  the  old  nooks  of  Gothic  story 
to  bring  before  the  Parisians  under  the  patronage  of  Made- 
moiselle Kachel. 

It  appeal's  that  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  knocked  at  more 
than  one  door  to  obtain  the  "  short  tragedy  containing  one 
very  brilliant  part"  which  she  had  solicited  of  M.  Legouve. 
"Medee,"  with  her  three  acts  and  her  suite,  was  not  what 
she  wished ;  "  Rosemonde,"  with  her  one  act  and  three  per- 
sonages, pleased  her  better.  "  Medee"  was  a  role  of  the  an- 
cient repertoire,  minus  the  superiority  of  the  great  masters. 
"  Rosemonde"  was  the  frantic,  disheveled  offspring  of  young 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  297 

literature,  that  was  to  stand  forward  with  eclat  in  tlic  gallery 
of  antiques  that  constituted  Mademoiselle  Eachel's  dramatic 
luggage. 

It  now  became  plain  that  while  the  tragedienne  was  alleging 
her  health,  her  resignation,  her  excursions,  her  domestic  afflic- 
tions to  avoid  playing  Medce,  declaring  solemnly  she  never  in- 
tended creating  another  rule,  that  fear  would  paralyze  her 
powers,  that  the  press  would  not  sustain  her,  that  she  would 
not  risk  compromising  seventeen  years  of  success  by  a  failure, 
she  was  at  that  very  time  busy  studying  Rosemonde.  She  was 
learning  it  in  secret  with  the  passionate  enthusiasm  she  had 
sho^\^l  for  Louise  de  LigneroUes.  She  flattered  herself  with  the 
hope  of  crowning  her  Parisian  career  with  a  brilliant  triumph, 
and  deemed  she  could  carry  to  America  a  play,  short  and  easy 
to  get  up,  that  Avould  afford  an  opportunity  for  the  display  of 
all  her  powers,  and  the  entire  interest  of  which  would  centre 
in  herself. 

Tlie  decision  of  the  court  that  sentenced  Mademoiselle  Ea- 
chel  to  play  "  Medee"  was  pronounced  on  the  21st  of  October. 
On  the  27th  of  November,  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  encourao^ed 
by  the  complaisant  complicity  of  the  manager,  appeared  for 
the  first  time  in  "  Eosemonde." 

What  motive  could  have  actuated  the  tragedienne  t©  adopt 
so  strange  a  course  it  is  difficult  to  imagine.  It  could  scarce- 
ly be  that  the  remembrance  of  her  success  in  "  Yirginie"  was 
proof  against  that  of  her  failure  in  the  absurd  "Vieux  de  la 
Montague."  At  any  rate,  whatever  hopes  author  and  actress 
had  raised  on  the  present  preposterous  creation  wei'e  doomed 
to  disappointment.  Mademoiselle  Eachel  had  hoped  that  hor- 
ror carried  to  the  utmost  limits  would  cause  a  great  sensation. 
The  effect  was  the  opposite  to  that  expected;  the  spectators 
were  rather  inclined  to  laughter — the  great  tragedienne  was 
simply  ridiculous! 

"Eosemonde,"  withal,  possessed  one  merit,  and  that  a  very 
great  one  in  the  present  case — there  was  but  one  act  of  it. 
Yet  it  was  a  tragedy,  and  the  author,  by  virtue  of  that  title, 
had  a  right  to  inflict  five  acts  on  the  public.  Notwithstand- 
ing what  some  modern  author  says,  that  it  is  "  so  easy  not  to 
make  tragedies  in  five  acts,"  some  credit  is  due  toM.Latour 

N  2 


298  MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL. 

St.  Ybars  for  his  forbearance.  He  suppressed  the  first  four 
and  served  up  the  hist  only,  crowding  into  that  one  all  the 
horrors  he  was  at  liberty  to  have  spread  over  five  acts. 

The  theme  chosen  is  one  of  the  ferocious  incidents  that 
abound  in  the  early  history  of  eveiy  nation.  The  author  can 
not  be  accused  of  having  altered  or  disguised  historical  truth ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  has  veiled  none  of  its  hideous  nakedness, 
he  has  softened  none  of  the  revolting  particulars. 

M.  Latour  evidently  meant  to  draw  forth  all  the  chief  char- 
acteristics of  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  His  attempt  was  not  al- 
together ill  founded.  Setting  aside  the  impossibihty  of  recon- 
ciling with  the  laws  of  modern  taste  the  ghoulish  incidents  he 
allowed  to  stand,  there  were  dramatic  points  which  a  great 
poet  would  have  made  very  effective.  But,  unfortunately,  in 
"  Rosemonde"  we  have  the  most  intensely  tragic  occurrences 
developed  in  the  most  trivial,  weak,  nerveless  language.  The 
ferocity  of  the  idea  is  completely  lost  in  the  tameness  of  the 
expression ;  that  which  in  the  magnificent,  passionate,  all- 
powerful  poetry  of  Victor  Hugo  would  have  sent  a  thrill  of 
terror  through  every  heart,  in  the  milk-and-water  style  of  M. 
Latour  caused  ennui  or  derision. 

According  to  the  chronicler,  after  reigning  three  years  and 
a  half.in  Italy,  Alboin  was  assassinated  by  his  wife  in  373. 
The  cause  of  the  crime  was  the  following : 

The  Idng,  having  become  excited  with  wine  during  a  ban- 
quet, ordered  that  a  bowl,  made  of  her  fathei-'s  skull,  should 
be  presented  to  the  queen,  bidding  her  joyously  drink  with  her 
father  {iit  cum  iiatre  suo  Icetanter  biberet). 

"  The  thing,"  adds  the  old  narrator,  Paul  Diacre,  "  may 
appear  impossible,  but  I  speak  the  truth  in  Jesus  Christ — I 
have  seen  the  bowl." 

The  unfortunate  Rosemonde  being  informed  afterward  what 
bloody  trophy  had  touched  her  lips,  vowed  revenge.  Plaving 
seduced  the  king's  armor-bearer,  Helmichis,  and  Peredeus,  one 
of  the  bravest  champions  among  the  Lombards,  she  caused  the 
king  to  be  assassinated. 

M.  Latour,  suppressing  such  details  of  the  seductions  em- 
ployed by  the  queen  as  were  too  disgusting  for  the  stage,  and 
which  may  be  found  at  length  in  Gibbon's  "  Decline  and  Fall 


MEMOIKS    OK    KACIIEL.  299 

of  the  Roman  Empire,"  gives  the  story  in  all  its  barbaric 
horrors. 

Alboiti,  King  of  the  Lombards,  having  vanquished  and  kill- 
ed Cummund,  King  of  the  Gepidix?,  chooses  among  the  captives 
Rosemonde,  the  daughter  of  his  late  foe,  for  his  queen.  At  a 
banquet  given  to  celebrate  his  victory,  the  barbarian,  mad- 
dened with  the  fumes  of  debauch,  compels  Rosevionde  to  drink 
from  the  skull  of  her  father.  Among  the  earls  of  Alboin  is 
one  who,  having  been  sent  some  time  previous  to  the  war  on 
an  embassy  to  her  father's  court,  had  seen  and  fallen  in  love 
with  Rosemonde.  Absent  on  another  expedition  at  the  time 
of  the  defeat  of  Cimimund,  he  returns  to  find  the  daughter  has 
been  selected  by  the  victor.  Earl  Didier  is  consequently  the 
fittest  instrument  for  her  vengeance.  To  arm  his  hand  against 
his  king,  she  promises  her  own  and  the  crown  as  his  reward. 
When  the  deed  is  perpetrated  Rosemonde  fulfills  part  of  her 
promise.  She  recommends  Didier  to  the  people  as  the  successor 
0? Alboin,  and  places  the  crown  on  his  head.  As  for  herself,  she 
dies  on  her  father's  grave  of  the  poison  she  has  taken.  One 
or  two  other  deaths  of  minor  importance  fill  up  this  frame- 
work of  murder,  profanity,  treason,  and  vengeance. 

This  tragical  story  has  been  dramatized  more  than  once  al- 
ready by  French  poets.  We  find  it  put  on  the  stage  as  far 
back  as  the  year  1G09  by  Claude  Billard,  Prior  of  Canterbury, 
the  same  who  the  following  year  caused  the  "  Death  of  Henry 
IV."  to  be  played  before  JNIarie  de  Medicis  in  mourning.  A 
year  or  two  before,  Nicholas  d'Argentan  wrote  his  "  Alboin 
ou  la  Vengeance  Trahie."  In  1649,  Balthazar  Baro  again 
put  "  Rosemonde"  upon  the  stage.  In  more  modern  times 
Alfieri  also  chose  this  heroine,  though  not  at  the  same  period 
of  her  life.  Indeed,  he  laid  aside  the  facts  altogether,  and  sub- 
stituted incidents  of  his  own  invention. 

The  choice  of  the  locality  itself,  though  historically  faithful, 
jars  with  all  our  preconceived  ideas.  True,  all  Italy  was  at 
the  time  devastated  by  the  barbaric  hordes  of  the  North ;  yet 
one  would  not  wish  to  find  the  scene  which  the  loves  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet  have  invested  Avith  such  tender  and  melancholy  as- 
sociations, the  fair  city  sought  with  delight  by  the  antiquary 
and  anticipated  so  gracefully  by  the  poet — 


300  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

"Are  these  the  distant  turrets  of  Verona? 
And  shall  I  sup  where  Juliet  at  tlie  masque 
Saw  her  loved  Montague,  and  now  sleeps  by  him  ? — 

selected  as  the  charnel-house,  the  shambles  in  which  wild 
beasts  enact  their  butcheries.  M.  Latour  does  not  say  with 
Dante,     * 

"  Vieni  a  veder  Montecchi  e  Cappeletti." 

He  bids  us  look  on  a  far  difFei'ent  scene.  Here  we  have  nei- 
ther the  rose  nor  the  nightingale ;  we  have  an  orgie  in  which 
besotted  barbarians,  drunk  with  the  fumes  of  blood  and  wine, 
and  despairing  captives,  the  living  spoils  of  the  most  ferocious 
war,  are  mingled  ;  the  former  are  howling  the  burden  of  their 
song  of  battle,  with  accompaniment  of  cymbals,  horns,  and 
clashing  shields.  The  song  of  the  bard  is  in  keeping  with  the 
deeds  he  celebrates.  • 

Some  dramatists  are  induced  to  choose  their  epoch  and  na- 
tion on  account  of  the  picturesque  beauty  of  the  costume  of 
that  time  and  people.  If  we  consult  the  historian  we  Avill 
hardly  be  inclined  to  accuse  M.  Latour  of  having  been  guided 
by  any  such  puerile  considerations. 

"  The  dress  of  the  ancient  Lombards  consisted  of  loose  linen 
garments  ;  their  legs  and  feet  were  clothed  in  long  hose  and 
open  sandals ;  and  even  in  the  tranquillity  of  peace  a  sword 
was  constantly  girt  to  their  side  ;  their  heads  were  shaven  be- 
hind, but  their  hair  before  hung  over  their  eyes  and  mouth, 
and  a  long  beard  represented  the  name  and  character  of  the 
nation." 

For  farther  particulars  we  have  the  testimony  of  Cunimund, 
the  Prince  of  the  Gepidns  : 

"The  Lombards,"  said  the  rude  barbarian,  "resemble  in 
figure  and  smell  the  mares  of  our  Samaritan  plains." 

"  Add  another  resemblance,"  replied  an  audacious  Lom- 
bard;  "you  have  felt  how  strongly  they  kick.  Visit  the 
plains  of  Asfeld,  and  seek  for  the  bones  of  thy  brother ;  they 
arc  mingled  with  those  of  the  vilest  animals." 

The  above  interchange  of  compliments  preceded  the  war 
and  atrocities  which  are  the  groundwork  of  the  tragedy. 

Whether  the  actress  was  terrified  at  tlie  responsibility  she 
had  assumed,  or  that,  accustomed  to  the  sublime  beauties  of 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  301 

the  classic  7-epertoire,  she  felt  herself  uninspired  by  this  mod- 
ernized tissue  of  horrors,  and,  losing  confidence  in  its  success 
at  the  very  moment  of  trial,  lost  confidence  in  her  own  powers, 
or  whether  the  attitude  of  the  public  disheartened  her,  from 
whatever  cause  it  might  be,  this  character,  so  obstinately 
adopted  in  spite  of  all  taste,  reason,  and  judgment,  was  ill- 
sustained  by  her.  It  lingered  a  very  few  nights,  and  was  then 
dropped  forever. 

With  its  manifold  faults,  the  play  possessed  points  well 
suited  to  Mademoiselle  Kachel.  It  is  said  that  Eacine  bor- 
rowed from  the  "  Rosemonde"  of  Balthazar  Bai'O  the  charac- 
ter of  IJermione — JMademoiselle  Rachel's  best  part.  The  scene 
of  the  Greek  princess  instigating  Orestes  to  the  murder  of 
Pyrrhus  certainly  presents  a  striking  analogy  Avith  that  in 
which  liosemonde  endeavors  to  persuade  Ermigius  to  slay  Al- 
boin ;  the  arguments  used  by  Hermione  and  the  answers  of  the 
hesitating,  reluctant  Orestes,  though  clothed  in  the  far  superior 
poetry  of  Racine,  are  the  same,  in  reality,  as  those  of  Baro's 
heroine  and  hero;  then,  again,  there  is  so  great  a  resemblance 
in  fact,  between  some  of  the  situations  of  M.  Latour's  play 
and  those  of  "  Andromaque,"  that  it  is  somewhat  strange  Mad- 
emoiselle Rachel  did  not  feel  sustained  by  the  resemblance. 
There  are  others,  too,  where  her  tragic  expression  and  atti- 
tudes had  excellent  opportunities  of  display ;  for  instance,  in 
the  scene  vi^here  the  tyrant,  mortally  wounded,  drags  himself 
on  the  stage,  and  is  met  by  liosemonde  entering  Avith  a  lamp 
to  ascertain  if  the  deed  has  been  well  done.  The  king,  on 
retiring,  had  found  Egilde,  one  of  Eosemonde's  women,  dressed 
in  the  regal  robes,  dead  on  his  couch.  He  has  mistaken  her 
for  the  queen  he  had  chosen,  and,  being  set  upon  by  his  mur- 
derer, has  had  no  time  to  discover  his  error ;  hence  his  first 
exclamation,  Avhen  the  real  Rosemonde  meets  him,  a  la  Lady 
Macbeth,  with  her  lamp : 

"Cette  fcmme,  quelle  est  cette  femme?" 
Rosemonde. 

"La  haine 
"La  vengeance,  tardive,  il  est  vraie,  mais  certaine." 

Alhoin. 
"Ah!" 


302  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL. 

Rosemonde. 
"Eegarde-moi  bien." 

Alboin. 
"Fantome,  queveux-tu?" 

Rosemonde. 
"  Je  veux  te  voir  mourir  a  mes  pieds  abattu." 

Alboin  (tombe  prcs  de  sa  couronne). 
"Rosemonde!  .  .   .  elle  est  morte." 
Rosemonde. 

"Elle  est  encore  vivante 
Pour  joitir  de  ta  mort  et  de  ton  epouvante." 
Alboin. 
"Mes  armesl  dieux  d'enfer  !"  &c.,  &c. 

Rosemonde  makes  a  long  speech  to  the  dying  king,  the  pith 
of  which  M.  Latour  found  in  the  five  magnificent  lines  of 
Polynice  to  Eteocles,  in  Eacine's  "  Les  Freres  Ennemis :" 

"Et  tu  meurs,  lui  dit  il,  et  moi  je  vais  regner 
Regarde  dans  mes  mains  I'empire  et  la  victoire 
Va  rougir  aux  enfers  de  I'exces  de  ma  gloire ; 
Et  pour  mourir  encore  avec  plus  de  regret, 
Traitre,  songe  en  mouraut  que  tu  meurs  mon  sonjet." 

We  can  not  say  that  Rosemonde's  harangue  is  "sweetness 
long  drawn  out,"  but  the  idea  so  concisely  and  powerfully 
expressed  by  Eacine  has  been  so  expanded,  diluted,  spun  out 
in  M.  Latour's  prosy  style,  that  all  the  original  horror  is  lost. 

The  coldness  with  which  the  public  received  this  feast  of 
Atreus  reacted  on  Mademoiselle  Eachel.  Her  delivery  was 
so  precipitate,  hacked,  and  indistinet,  that  it  was  often  neces- 
sary to  wait  the  reply  to  know  the  meaning  of  what  she  had 
said.  It  was  true  that  she  was  never  quite  mistress  of  herself 
on  first  nights ;  but,  aside  from  the  emotion  incidental  to  the 
fear  of  failure,  there  could  not  be  in  this  queen  of  the  French 
stage,  whose  will  was  omnipotent,  the  anxiety  of  the  young 
and  timid  debutante,  whose  untried  powers  have  few,  if  any, 
chances  of  pleasing.  She  had  chosen  the  play,  she  had 
brought  it  out,  she  was  bound  to  exert  herself  to  the  utmost 
for  its  support. 

Either  the  vexation  of  failure,  or  some  other  unknown  cause, 
acted  on  her  nerves  to  such  an  extent  that  after  the  fall  of  the 


MEJIOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  303 

curtain  she  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  liysterics  that  was  so  vio- 
lent and  lasted  so  long  that  it  was  feared  her  reason  was  in 
danger ;  she  tore  her  veil,  dashed  from  her  the  crown,  and 
threw  down,  with  looks  of  frantic  horror,  her  poniard. 

An  explanation  of  this  singidar  scene  was  sought  in  the 
supposition  that  it  was  the  remembrance  of  the  death  of 
her  sister  Eebecca  that  had  awakened  a  paroxysm  of  deliri- 
ous grief.  But  it  is  difficult  to  find  any  analogy  between 
this  recent  family  bereavement  and  the  tragedy  of "  Hose- 
nionde." 

The  result  of  this  last  miscalculation  was  that  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel,  vexed  and  ashamed,  retired  under  the  usual  pre- 
tense of  ill  health. 

jNIademoiselle  Rachel  had  introduced  the  celebration  of  the 
anniversary  of  Corneille ;  it  occurred  at  last  to  the  manage- 
ment that  there  was  another  great  man  to  whom  they  were 
equally  indebted,  and  the  anniversary  of  whose  birtli  was 
equally  entitled  to  dramatic  honors.  On  the  21st  of  Decem- 
ber the  Theatre  Frangais  inaugurated  the  celebration  of  Ra- 
cine's birth-day,  the  tragedienne  condescending  for  that  day  to 
forget  she  was  ill,  and  act  "  Phcdre." 

Since  the  unfortunate  exit  of  "  Rosemonde,"  this  was  the 
first  time  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  appeared  on  the  stage. 
She  retired  into  her  tent,  and  did  not  come  forth  again  until 
the  latter  part  of  January  of  the  following  year. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

1855. 


"La  Czarine." — Melpomene  in  Hysterics. — A  formidable  Rival. — Ade- 
laide Ristori,  the  Siddons  of  Italy. — "Francesca  da  Rimini." — "La 
Pia  de  Tolomei."— "Maria  Stuarda." 

During  her  temporary  absence  from  the  stnge  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel  was  studying  a  new  7'ule,  in  a  drama  in  five  acts, 
by  M.  Scribe,  "La  Czarine,"  which  was  brought  out  in  Janu- 
ary of  this  year.  As  the  student  of  history  will  not  think  of 
consulting  M.  Scribe's  plays  as  works  of  reference,  it  is  un- 
necessary to  quarrel  with   that  author's  peculiar   mode   of 


304  MEMOIRS    OF    RACIIEI.. 

treating  historical  events  and  personages ;  in  truth,  he  has  ^ 
merely  borrowed  high-sounding  names;  the  incidents  and  9 
characters  are  entirely  of  his  own  invention. 

Among  the  subjects  that  apparently  pleased  him  best  was 
the  celebrated  Catharine,  wife  of  Peter  the  Great.      Finding 
her  very  successful  in  the  "  Etoile  du  Nord,"  he  tried  her 
without  the  partition  and  at  a  more  advanced  period  of  her 
existence,  substituting  Mademoiselle  Eachel  for  the  musical 
charms  of  which  he  now  divested  her.     The  hero  is  no  longer 
Peter  the  shipwright,  enamored  of  the  fair  young  gipsy,  and 
committing  no  worse  crime  than  that  of  an  extra  glass  to 
drown  the   sorrow  her  absence   occasions.     At  the   present 
stage  of  his  existence  Peter  is  advanced  in  his  imperial  career; 
he  has  learned  his  various  trades,  and  is  now  giving  his  sub- 
jects the  benefit  of  his  experience.     He  has  already  founded 
St.  Petersburg,  conquered  Sweden,  fought  with  Turkey,  butch- 
ered his  son  Alexis,  drowned  in  torrents  of  blood  the  con- 
spiracy of  the  Strelitz,  and  carried  to  some  extent  liis  system 
of  civilization,  effected   according   to  the  principles    of  bar- 
barism.    Czar  Peter  is  more  at  leisure  now,  and  turns  his 
mind  entirely  to   his  own  little   domestic  affairs,  which  he 
regulates  according  to  his  usual  expeditious  system.     To  keep 
his  hand  in,  this  imperial  executioner  amuses  himself  with 
putting  to   death  the  admirers   of  his  beloved  Czarine.     In      ^ 
fact,  there  is  much  more  of  the  Ogre  of  fairy  tales,  and  much 
less  of  the  Czar  in  this  Peter  than  there  was  even  in  the  his- 
torical one,  and  he  is  much  better  suited  for  the  tyrant  of  the 
melo-dramas  in  favor  on  the  Boulevards  than  for  the  hero  of 
a  play  at  the  Theatre  Frangais,  whose  more  refined  and  crit- 
ical audience  tolerated  with   difficulty  this  brutal  provost- 
marshal. 

The  Czarine  has  not  one  great  quality,  one  marked  charac- 
teristic, one  attractive  point  to  raise  her  above  the  common 
level ;  the  author  could  not  have  written  a  more  insignificant, 
pointless,  colorless  role  for  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  There  is 
not  from  beginning  to  end  a  fine  passage,  an  energetic  speech. 

The  other  characters  are  a  set  of  Russians  such  as  were 
presented  as  specimens  of  the  nation  at  the  Theatre  du  Cirque 
during  the  Crimean  war.     There  is  an  Admiral  Vilderbeck,  a 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  305 

sort  of  Dutch-Russian,  always  tipsy,  always  ridiculous,  who  is 
the  unconscious  marplot  in  the  play  ;  Jakimhj,  an  automaton 
spy  of  the  Czar's :  he  acts,  but  leaves  the  talking  to  otliers ; 
MenscMlcoff,  the  unfortunate  Menscldkoff  so  ill-treated  by  La 
Harpe,  expiates,  by  the  gratuitous  charge  of  poisoning  Peter 
the  Great,  now  brought  against  him  by  JM.  Scribe,  the  hatred 
which  the  people  of  France  bore  the  Menschikoff  of  1855 ; 
Olga,  his  daughter,  a  simple,  candid  little  girl,  who  can,  when 
required,  show  a  very  heroic  spirit,  but  whose  combustible 
heart  catches  fire  like  a  little  keg  of  powder  at  the  approach 
of  the  spark  Sapieha ;  Sapieha,  a  young  Pole,  cut  on  the  pat- 
tern of  the  Lauzuns,  a  courtier  fresh  from  the  Versailles  of 
the  a-'il  de  Boeuf 

"With  these  stereotyped  personages,  reproduced  again  and 
again  in  their  proper  sphere  at  the  Porte  St.  Martin,  any  dram- 
atist of  M.  Scribe's  school  was  sure  to  proceed  on  exactly 
the  same  plan  as  the  master,  and  to  produce  a  play  in  the 
same  monotonous,  lukewarm,  and  superficial  style  as  the  ma- 
jority of  those  this  fertile  and  skillful  playwright  has  made 
the  public  applaud  so  repeatedly. 

Count  Sapieha,  just  arrived  from  the  court  of  France,  is  the 
lion  of  the  semi-barbaric  court  which  Czar  Peter  is  civilizing 
with  his  cane  and  pruning  with  the  axe;  the  ladies  of  the 
court  invite  him  to  more  rendezvous  than  he  has  time  or  in- 
clination to  attend  to,  for  he  aspires  to  no  less  than  an  impe- 
rial heart,  and  disdains  the  conquest  of  any  lower  station. 
Peter,  who  is  as  jealous  as  a  tiger,  has  lately  chopped  off  the 
head  of  Ma^iis  de  la  Croix,  the  last  admirer  of  his  wife,  and  is 
looking  out  very  sharply  to  catch  the  next.  The  fate  of  hi ; 
predecessor  only  makes  the  new  pretender  more  boastful  and 
daring  ;  he  openly  avows  his  hopes  to  Yilderbeck,  a  very  faith- 
ful friend,  but  too  much  given  to  indiscretions  when  in  his 
cups.  Catharine  knows  of  this  love,  and  encourages  it  as  an 
aoreeable  diversion  to  the  ennui  and  repulsion  the  brutality  of 
her  spouse  inspires.  She  is  not  a  bit  more  discreet  than  her 
lover,  and  unhesitatingly  develops  her  ideas  on  the  subject  to 
Menschikoff,  who  had  himself  been  the  happy  possessor  of  her 
heart  in  former  days,  but,  like  a  good  courtier,  had  yielded  it 
up  to  his  master.     3Ie7ischikoff  does  not  object  to  the  Czarine's 


306  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

new  fancy  on  moral  grounds,  but  only  as  entailing  dangei'ous 
results.  Peter,  who  is  absent,  has  set  him  to  watch  Catharine, 
but,  having  no  great  confidence  in  his  minister,  has  appointed 
Jakinsl'i/,  another  spy,  to  look  after  the  first.  Mensc hi koff  re- 
pays the  Czarine's  frankness  by  the  information  that,  having 
been,  on  some  slight  occasion,  caned  by  his  imperial  master 
before  all  the  court,  he,  the  favorite,  intends  to  take  an  early 
opportunity  of  paying  back  the  little  favor. 

In  the  mean  while  the  Czarine  promotes  Count  Sajoieha  to 
the  post  of  chamberlain,  and  Olga — who,  following  the  fashion, 
has  fallen  in  love  with  the  dashing,  Frenchified  Pole,  is  uncon- 
sciously her  rival — to  that  of  maid  of  honor,  and  admits  her, 
by  a  special  favor,  to  lodge  in  a  pavilion  occupied  by  herself. 
So  far  matters  have  gone  on  smoothly  enough,  but  here  the 
embroglio  begins.  Vilderbecl;  going  home  late  in  rather  a  con- 
fused state  of  mind,  wanders  into  the  gardens  of  the  palace, 
finds  a  door  open,  enters  a  pavilion,  and  catches  a  glimpse  of 
a  lady  in  white,  who  screams  and  puts  out  the  light.  At  this 
moment  a  powerful  grasp  is  laid  on  his  shoulders,  and  he  is 
tumbled  down  stairs  and  out  of  doors  very  unceremoniously. 
The  next  morning  he  finds  himself  at  his  own  door,  half  frozen, 
and  quite  unconscious  how  he  got  there.  In  the  scuffle  a 
chamberlain's  key  has  been  dropped ;  this  key,  picked  up  by 
Jahinshij,  like  Bluebeard's,  gets  every  one  into  a  scrape;  it  is 
shown  to  the  Czar,  whose  suspicions  it  arouses.  Vilderbeck, 
being  questioned,  relates  his  nocturnal  adventure :  it  was  too 
dark  to  recognize  his  assailant  or  the  lady,  and  he  was  too 
tipsy  to  remember  the  locality  of  the  scene.  However,  the 
key  is  proved  to  be  the  count's,  and  he  is  summoned  before 
the  imperial  inquisitor.  What  was  he  doing  there?  He  was 
there  for — Olga!  Very  well,  he  must  immediately  repair 
damages  by  marrying  Olga,  who,  on  her  side,  knowing  noth- 
ing of  the  adventure,  joyfully  consents  to  obey  orders  and 
take  the  husband  provided  for  her. 

The  play  might  have  been  brought  to  a  close  here,  the  fas- 
cinating count  turning  out  to  have  been  in  love  with  pretty 
Miss  Olga  all  the  time,  and  to  have  really  made  with  her  the 
rendezvous  that  has  so  greatly  troubled  the  Czar  and  occa- 
sioned his  .spouse  to  be  accused  falsely.     This  natural  conclu- 


I 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  307 

sion  here  would  have  added  the  "  Czarine"  to  the  long  list  of 
comedies  furnished  by  M.  Scribe,  per  contract,  to  the  Gym- 
nase.     It  may  be  that  this  was  originally  the  case,  and  that 
it  had  remained  in  this  state  in  M.  Scribe's  drawer  until  the 
time  of  the  Crimean  expedition,  when  the  sequel  was  tacked 
on.     The  drama  is  all  in  the  last  three  acts,  in  which  are  also 
all  the  allusions  to  Constantinople  and  to  the  Turks,  the  hated 
foes  of  Peter  the  Great ;  the  Turkish  embassador  at  the  court 
of  Russia  is  the  man  who  once,  thanks  to  Catharine's  interpo- 
sition, permitted  the  Czar  to  escape  when  he  might  have  driven 
him  into  the  Priith.      One  might  suppose  these  incidents  would 
influence  the  action  of  the  drama;  they  have,  however,  rioth- 
ino-  to  do  with  it.     While  Menschikoff  i\n^  his  master  are  hav- 
in**-  a  little  familiar  discussion  on  political  matters,  a  common- 
place remark  of  Pdcr  to  Ohja,  who  is  present,  with  regard  to 
her  husband,  draws  forth  an   answer  which  arouses  all  his 
lately-appeased  suspicions.     Sapieha  has  not  spent  his  wed- 
ding-night with  his  bride!     The  Czarine  and  the  count  ex- 
change, when  they  think  themselves  alone,  a  few  words,  which, 
overheard  by  Ohja,  reveal  that  she  has  been  only  used  as  a 
cloak  to  shield  her  mistress.     Feeling  this  the  more  deeply 
that  she  herself  loves  her  husband,  the  poor  little  wife  has 
still  the  magnanimity  to  endeavor  to  persuade  the  Czar  that 
she  is  really  loved  by  the  count.     Her  generosity  is  of  no 
avail.     Peter  is  conscious  that  he  is  betrayed  ;  he  is  determined 
on  revenge.     He  exiles  Olga  to  Siberia,  and  orders  the  execu- 
tion of  Sapieha.     The  Czarine  uses  her  influence  to  save  her 
favorite.     She  prevails  on  her  former  lover,  the  Turkish  em- 
bassador, to  convey  her  present  one  out  of  the  kingdom  in  his 
OAvn  carriage.     But  on  the  road  Sapieha  learns  the  fate  of  Olga. 
Her  noble  devotion,  her  love  for  him,  her  beauty,  and  espe- 
cially her  youth,  have  changed  the  current  of  his  love ;  he  is 
no  longer  fascinated  by  the  more  mature  charms  of  Catharine; 
he  now  adores  his  wife,  and  to  share  her  lot,  wherever  it  may 
be  cast,  he  escapes  from  the  embassador's  carriage,  rushes  back 
to  St.  Petersburg,  is  taken,  and  brought  out  on  a  scaflfbld  under 
the  windows  of  the  palace  to  be  decapitated.     Tlie  Czar,  by  a 
refinement  of  cruelty,  compels  the  Czarine  to  view  the  scene, 
that  he  may  catch  on  her  countenance  the  signs  of  grief  that 


308  MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL. 

will  be  ia  his  eyes  the  proof  of  her  guilt.  But  the  Czarine 
views  the  dismal  preparations  calmly,  for  she  is  resolved  that 
she  will  end  her  own  life  when  the  count  dies.  Her  coolness 
convinces  the  Czar  of  her  innocence,  and  he  countermands  the 
execution,  telling  Catharine  he  now  believes  there  was  no  love 
on  her  side  for  Sapieha;  he  adds  that  he  is  equally  convinced 
Sapieha  has  none  for  her,  having  just  intercepted  the  count's 
last  adieu  to  his  young  wife,  a  letter  full  of  expressions  of  pas- 
sionate tenderness,  in  which  he  assures  her  she  alone  is  mistress 
of  his  heart,  &c.,  &c.  Catharine,  who  could  look  on  calmly 
when  her  lover  was  to  lose  his  head,  when  she  finds  she  has 
lost'  his  heart  is  overwhelmed  with  rage.  Careless  of  conse- 
quences, she  vents  her  jealousy  openly,  and  the  incensed  Czar 
reorders  the  execution.  But,  ere  the  sentence  can  pass  his 
lips,  his  words  are  cut  short  by  his  own  death.  Menschikoff, 
in  order  to  save  his  daughter,  Olga,  has  hastened  the  execution 
of  his  plans ;  the  Czai-  is  poisoned  by  him.  This  sudden  death 
puts  other  thoughts  in  Catharine's  mind.  She  sends  the  count 
as  embassador  to  Warsaw,  with  his  bride ;  as  for  her,  she  will 
live  only  to  reign. 

On  the  follovsang  day  there  was  a  great  dinner  given  in 
honor  of  the  tragedienne  by  Doctor  Ve'ron,  and  St.  Beuve, 
Merrimee,  Aubert,  Halevy,  M.  Aloequart,  and  Scribe,  were 
among  the  guests.  The  invitations  had  been  issued,  in  all 
probability,  when  it  was  expected  that  the  play  and  the  actress 
would  meet  with  the  most  brilliant  success.  The  play  had  been 
evidently  a  failure  :  the  actress  had,  as  Avas  usual  with  her  on 
first  nights,  been  far  below  her  own  standard.  These  disap- 
pointments had  thrown  a  cloud  over  the  doctor's  entertain- 
ment which  Rachel,  feeling  that  it  was  partly  owing  to  her, 
would  willingly  have  dispelled.  To  get  up  a  fictitious  excite- 
ment, she,  who  was  excessively  abstemious,  drank  two  glasses 
of  Champagne.  It  produced  no  eflfect  beyond  a  headache. 
As  soon  as  the  dinner  was  over  she  withdrew  into  another 
room  and  gave  way  to  a  fit  of  tears,  after  which  she  slipped 
away  home. 

M.  Scribe,  who  was  extremely  uneasy,  remarked  to  Merri- 
mee that  he  would  not  wonder  if  she  never  played  the  part 
again. 


MEMOIRS    OV    RACHEL.  309 

The  *'  Czarine"  was,  however,  played  for  a  few  nights,  and 
then  dropped  forever. 

Tins  wretched  production  was  the  last  of  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel's creations.  Nothing  remained  of  it  but  two  portraits  of 
her  in  the  costume  of  the  Czarine,  a  blue  dress  embroidered 
with  gold,  and  a  mantle  of  ermine,  fine  paintings  by  M.  Geof- 
froy. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel  had  pursued  her  course  for  eighteen 
years  without  meeting  a  single  competitor  who  could  cause 
her  any  serious  alarm,  but  now  there  arose  a  new  star  on  the 
dramatic  horizon,  which  threatened,  if  not  to  eclipse,  at  least 
to  rival  her.  On  the  24th  of  JMay  Madame  Ristori  appeared 
at  the  Italian  Opera  House  in  the  part  of  Fi^ancesca  da  Rimini. 
Never,  perhaps,  had  a  French  actress  been  so  universally  ad- 
mired in  Paris  as  was  this  foreigner  acting  in  a  foreign  idiom. 
Never  certainly  had  she,  even  in  her  own  land,  where  she  was 
of  course  better  understood,  been  the  object  of  such  extrava- 
gant encomiums.  The  critics  pronounced  her  perfection,  the 
public  countersigned  their  decision.  The  success  of  the  Ital- 
ian Siddons  was  certainly  without  precedent  if  we  consider 
that  not  over  one  fourth  part  of  her  audience  understood  what 
was  spoken  otherwise  than  as  it  was  interpreted  by  the  mar- 
velous eloquence  of  the  countenance,  attitude,  and  gestures  of 
the  speaker.  Her  great  eifects  were  entirely  due  to  the  charm 
of  the  features,  the  magic  of  the  exquisite  voice. 

When  we  say  that  the  success  of  Madame  Ristori  was 
greater  in  France  than  it  has  ever  been  in  Italy,  we  do  not 
mean  it  to  be  infei-red  that  there  she  Avas  not  duly  appreciated. 
Though  instances  of  the  possessors  of  genius  and  talent  meet- 
ing only  with  indifference  from  their  fellow-citizens  are  nu- 
merous, and  though  the  voice  of  the  prophet  seldom  finds  an 
echo  at  home,  the  applause  of  an  Italian  public  has  constantly 
followed  the  career  of  her  whose  admirable  enunciation  added 
new  beauties  to  their  harmonious  language. 

But  it  could  not  be  expected  that  in  towns  where  the  the- 
atre-going public  remains  always  unchanged,  enthusiasm  can 
be  kept  up  constantly  by  three  or  four  dramatic  works,  brought 
before  it  by  the  same  actress,  however  excellent  she  may  be  in 
her  art,  as  in  large  capitals  where  the  floating  population  is 
so  numerous. 


310  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL. 

Thus,  though  long  years  had  established  the  reputation  of 
Madame  Ristori  in  her  native  land,  it  was  eclipsed  by  the 
more  brilliant  one  a  few  weeks  procured  her  in  France.  The 
perfect  classic  outline  of  this  great  talent  had  been  hitherto 
fully  admitted,  but  it  remained  for  a  Parisian  audience — an 
audience  of  consummate  critics,  too  long  accustomed  to  excel- 
lence to  tolerate  mediocrity — to  discern  its  mystic  and  ethereal 
characteristics.  Plence  the  triumph  of  the  great  artiste  was  in 
France  as  complete  as  it  was  rapidly  achieved. 

The  difference  is  easily  accounted  for. 

To  Italy  belong  bold  and  vivid  feelings — enthusiasm  that 
carries  all  before  it — the  passionate  admiration  of  perfection 
of  form,  brilliancy  of  coloring,  of  the  music  which  in  that  priv- 
ileged land  seems  the  echo  of  the  hymn  of  joy  with  which  the 
creation  greets  its  Creator. 

To  France  belongs  the  severe  analyzation  of  the  beauties  of 
Nature,  the  more  intimate  realization  of  the  dreaming,  delicate 
touches  of  Art,  a  more  studied  appreciation  of  the  undefined 
and  shadowy  subtleties  of  thought. 

In  Madame  Ristori  her  countrymen  admired  the  deep  pas- 
sions and  energy  that  gave  such  startling  reality  to  each  part 
she  represented. 

In  France  these  were  equally  admired,  while  the  profound 
knowledge  of  human  nature  disj^layed  in  every  glance,  every 
gesture,  every  intonation  of  her  flexible  and  musical  voice, 
were  better  appreciated ;  and  the  soft,  vague  melancholy, 
which  at  times  veils  and  spiritualizes  the  look  of  this  actress, 
recalling  visions  of  Ossian's  daughters  of  the  mist  or  of  the 
gentle  Undine  of  our  German  neighbors,  was  far  better  un- 
derstood by  the  French  than  by  the  Italians. 

The  great  originality  of  Madame  Ristori's  style  consists 
chiefly  in  the  union,  so  rarely  met  with,  of  dreamy  reverie 
and  ardent  passion.  This  characteristic,  so  specially  her  own, 
is  poi-trayed  on  her  countenance ;  the  aspiration  toward  the 
ideal  is  in  every  feature  ;  the  purity  of  the  brow,  the  oval 
contour  of  the  face,  the  somewhat  severe  lines  of  the  Roman 
nose,  the  nameless  grace  of  those  of  the  mouth,  indicate  the 
noblest  feelings,  a  heartfelt  sense  of  the  beautiful,  and  the  love 
of  whatsoever  is  virtuous  and  good.    . 


MEMOLRS    OF    RACHEL.  311 

Another  cause  for  her  success,  which  was  wholly  independ- 
ent of  the  profession,  was  the  high  opinion  held  of  her  char- 
acter as  a  wife  and  a  mother.  The  spectator  was,  uncon- 
sciously perhaps,  under  the  influence  of  this  superiority.  Ere 
she  opened  her  lips  the  natural  dignity  of  her  manner  predis- 
posed in  her  favor,  rendering  eveiy  heart  sympathetic ;  when 
she  spoke  the  hearers  were  under  the  charm  of  a  voice  of  un- 
paralleled sweetness,  revealing  candor  and  goodness  unbounded 
— a  voice  that  came  fraught  with  every  noble  and  generous 
feeling  directly  from  the  heart  that  is  their  spring.  The  feat- 
ures and  gestures  may  be  schooled  by  strength  of  -will  and  of 
intellect  to  represent  a  great  tragic  part,  even  by  a  mind  of 
perverted  principles.  Consummate  talent  and  long  stage-ex- 
perience may  give  the  power  of  expressing  every  bitter,  strange, 
and  terrible  effect  of  headlong,  uncurbed  passion  with  an  en- 
ergy and  force  that  strike  terror  into  every  heart ;  but  if  that 
of  the  actress  has  no  tender  fibres,  her  voice  none  of  the  mov- 
ing chords,  the  melting  accents  that  indicate  a  pure  and  gen- 
erous nature,  she  will  awaken  no  sympathy  in  the  spectators: 
they  may  admire,  they  can  not  love  her. 

The  most  charming  of  Madame  Ristori's  characters  was  un- 
doubtedly that  oi  Francesca  da  Rimini,  and,  among  other  per- 
formers famed  for  their  talent,  she  alone  could  give  us  the 
image  of  the  veiled  tenderness,  the  struggle  between  duty  and 
passion,  the  truth  and  purity  of  Dante's  beautiful  creation — 
she  alone  could  embody  the  spirit  of  the  fair  Francesca.  On 
what  stage  could  Ave  find  another  profile  so  full  of  majestic 
grace,  the  chaste  confusion  of  those  ej-es  overarched  by  so 
noble  a  brow,  and  that  radiant  smile  called  up  by  the  eva- 
nescent joys  of  love ;  and,  above  all,  where  else  could  we  find 
that  voice,  anon  vibrating  soft  and  girlishly  gentle,  then  again 
quivering  with  the  agony  of  grief — that  voice  we  all  recognize 
as  that  o^ Paolo's  love?  Its  sound  roaches  the  inmost  soul 
of  the  listener,  conveying  far  more  meaning  than  the  poetry 
it  utters.  Another  actress  might,  perhaps,  reproduce  this  type 
0? Francesca  with  as  much  talent  as  Madame  Eistori,  but  with 
that  talent  the  charm  that  emanates  from  the  purity  of  the 
woman,  and  which  blends  with  and  raises  the  genius  of  the 
artiste  to  so  sublime  a  height,  is  a  combination  rarely — we 


312  IHEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

dare  not  say  never — met  with.  Our  souvenirs  of  Madame 
Ristori  would  lead  us  to  look  on  any  other  Francesca  as  less 
chaste,  less  idealized. 

These  remarks  will  apply  to  Madame  Ristori's  style  of  act- 
ing in  all  her  characters,  but  more  especially  to  the  part  we 
have  just  mentioned,  and  to  that  of  "  La  Pia  de  Tolomei." 
The  play  of  "  Silvio  Pellico"  is  more  properly  an  elegy  in 
three  acts  than  a  tragedy.  A  succession  of  exquisite  shades 
of  feeling  alone  redeems  his  work  from  an  otherwise  insup- 
portable monotony :  it  is  rather  a  charming  poem,  of  which 
the  actress  is  the  soul,  than  a  pld,y.  M.  Carlos  Marenco, 
when  he  wrote  his  drama  of  "La  Pia,"  drew  his  inspiration 
from  Pellico's  tragedy ;  the  latter  is  superior  with  regard  to 
style,  but  in  both  interest  and  vigor  are  lacking ;  the  plot  is 
weak,  the  characters  are  tame.  The  patriotic  sentiment  that 
animates  the  fine  passages  of  Francesca,  which  every  Italian 
knows  by  heart,  makes  the  play  tolerated  on  the  stage,  and 
an  actress  like  Madame  Ristori  renders  the  ''  Pia"  endurable. 
If,  then,  she  causes  such  a  sensation  in  plays  that  are  dramat- 
ically below  mediocrity,  we  may  have  some  idea  of  what  she 
could  accomplish  had  she  been  the  interpreter  of  a  Corneille, 
a  Racine,  or  a  Shakspeare. 

The  part  of  Maria  Stuarda  has  more  variety,  more  striking 
dramatic  situations ;  hence  it  excites  more  enthusiasm  than 
those  we  have  mentioned.  The  woman  in  her  greatness  and 
her  weakness  is  here  more  apparent,  particularly  in  the  mag- 
nificent scene  where,  having  struggled  with  admirably-expressed 
efforts  against  her  rising  wrath,  the  sarcasms  o(  Elizabeth  final- 
ly render  it  irrepressible,  and  it  breaks  out  in  a  torrent  of  an- 
nihilating disdain  and  crushing  contempt  that  overwhelms  her 
rival ;  the  rapturous,  almost  childish  joy  with  which  she  then 
congratulates  herself  on  having  purchased  without  hesitancy, 
-and  at  the  price  of  almost  certain  death,  the  bitter  pleasure 
of  revenge,  is  one  of  the  most  superb  pieces  of  acting  ever  wit- 
nessed on  any  stage. 

To  analyze  the  various  inspirations  that  actuate  the  actress 
in  this  character,  we  should  have  to  quote  the  whole  of  it. 
The  sudden  gesture  when  3faria  speaks  of  the  hidden  dangers 
that  surround  her;   the  passionate  joy  of  the  prisoner  who 


I 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  313 

once  more  sees  the  face  of  heaven,  the  trees,  the  birds,  all 
nature ;  the  scene  where,  preparing  for  death,  she  bids  a  last 
adieu  to  her  handmaidens  with  such  melting  yet  subdued  af- 
fection, so  queenly  still  in  her  condescension,  yet  so  gentle,  so 
womanly  in  all  her  love  and  care  for  these,  her  faithful  ones ; 
and,  at  the  close,  the  heart-rending,  ecstatic  pause  during  which 
the  bitterness  of  death  contends  with  and  is  finally  absorbed 
in  the  heavenly  hope  that  transports  her  beyond  the  terrible 
present,  is  a  sublime  inspiration  springing  from  a  deep  relig- 
ious feeling,  from  a  soul  tilled  with  love  of  the  beautiful  ideal. 

In  "  Medea,"  so  difficult  a  part  to  bring  before  a  modern 
public,  the  actress  had  to  conquer  the  same  obstacles  as  in 
that  of  "Myrrha."  While  she  made  her  audience  shudder, 
she  had  the  power  of  ennobling  characters  and  passions  the 
most  appalling,  of  exciting  sympathy  for  heroines  scarcely  to 
be  tolerated  on  the  stage,  without,  however,  losing  any  of  the 
terrific  energy  which  is  one  of  her  chief  characteristics. 

In  the  French  classic  drama  Madame  Ristori  would  be 
equally  successful;  her  interpretations  of  the  feelings  of  a 
Hermione,  a  Camille,  an  Emilie  would,  we  think,  differ  widely 
from  that  which  has  hitherto  been  given.  The  bitter  sar- 
casm, the  despairing  anathemas,  all  the  wild  array  of  passions 
that  disfigure  poor  human  nature  in  these  splendid  types,  and 
which,  from  the  day  of  their  creation,  have  been  portrayed 
with  the  furious  rant  of  a  maniac,  would  by  her  be  brought 
into  bold  relief  with  new  and  stinking  effect.  The  mission  of 
the  tragic  poet  is  to  excite,  in  the  highest  degree,  emotions 
of  terror  and  pity,  and  never  can  this  aim  be  so  successfully 
accomplished  as  when  the  actress  unites  the  noblest  gifts  of 
the  heart  to  a  splendid  and  cultivated  intelligence. 

It  is  said,  with  what  truth  we  know  not,  though  we  feel  no 
inclination  to  doubt  it,  that  Madame  Kistori  is  in  the  habit 
of  seeking  in  mental  prayer,  before  going  on  the  stage,  the 
strength  and  nerve  she  exhibits  in  her  different  characters, 
and  that  she  places  implicit  reliance  on  the  religious  inspira- 
tion thus  sought.  This  is  a  view  of  the  vocation  of  dramatic 
artists  never  before  taken,  and  one  which,  should  the  example 
find  imitators,  might  lead  to  great  results.  It  would  certain- 
ly tend  to  dignify  and  elevate  in  an  extraordinary  degree  the 

O 


314  MEMOIES    OF    RACHEL. 

drama  and  its  interpreters,  and  silence  all  the  objections  hith- 
erto brought  against  them. 

Those  who  have  seen  this  charming  actress  in  private  life 
extol  her  modesty  and  simplicity.  Her  style  on  the  stage 
partakes  of  her  character — it  is  simple  and  unpretending  in 
its  very  grandeur.  She  is  true  in  the  artistic  sense  of  the 
word,  for  she  takes  from  nature  the  most  energetic  expression 
of  its  passions,  and  always  subordinates  it  to  the  laws  of 
beauty  with  the  exquisite  tact  that  is  innate  in  her.  Wei'e 
she  to  become  more  classical  she  might  lose  somewhat  of  her 
grace,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  a  more  familiar,  a  more  nat- 
ural style  would  impair  her  dignity.  No  clap-trap,  no  eccen- 
tricity is  mingled  with  her  acting.  She  has  invented  no  sys- 
tem of  her  own,  conseqviently  can  have  no  imitators.  Con- 
tent with  studying  the  human  heai't,  she  gives  the  rein  to 
her  own  instinctive  sense  of  what  should  be.  This  is  the 
whole  secret  of  the  success  of  those  poets  and  painters  who 
have  reached  the  highest  summit  of  art.  To  those  who  would 
approach  the  superiority  to  which  Madame  Adelaide  Ristori 
has  risen,  we  would  say,  "  Search  your  heart ;  if  it  be  pure, 
honest,  truly  pious,  you  may  succeed,  for  those  qualities  are 
more  necessary  to  an  artist  who  would  be  loved  and  admired 
than  is  generally  supposed." 

In  reviewing  the  different  phases  of  Mademoiselle  Eachel's 
career,  we  have  had  occasion  to  appreciate  the  merit  of 
the  various  critics  who  have  made  her  the  subject  of  their 
feuilletons.  We  do  not  lay  claim  to  having  given  a  complete 
list  of  them,  but  among  the  masters  of  the  pruning-knife 
whose  judicious  and  eloquent  articles  so  greatly  contributed 
to  her  exaltation,  there  is  one  we  would  feel  it  a  reproach  to 
have  omitted,  had  we  not  reserved  his  name  for  a  special 
mention  when  that  of  his  gifted  countrywoman  should  find  its 
place  in  these  pages.  Of  all  the  dramatic  critics  of  the  Paris- 
ian journals,  M.  Fiorentino,  who  is  alike  master  of  French  and 
Italian,  is  the  most  capable  of  correctly  judging  the  talent  of 
the  two  tragediennes  and  of  establishing  a  parallel  between 
them. 

There  are,  doubtless,  in  dramatic  ai't,  beauties  that  may  be 
recognized  and  appreciated  by  spectators  who  understand  the 


ME3I0IRS    OF   EACHEL.  315 

language  but  imperfectly.  But,  to  examine  the  subject  in  all 
its  bearings,  and  pronounce  on  its  merits  on  all  points,  the 
conscientious  critic  must  be  perfectly  familiar  with  the  lan- 
guage ;  he  must  need  no  preliminary  study  to  feel  all  its 
charm  and  power,  to  be  a  nice  judge  of  elegance  and  purity 
of  pronunciation,  of  correctness  and  truthfulness  of  intona- 
tion. He  who  does  not  possess  this  gift  can  only  speak  of  the 
mimic  talent  of  the  actor.  On  all  other  points  his  opinion  is 
subject  to  discussion,  for  his  errors  may  be  infinite. 

An  amusing  instance  of  this  occurred  at  the  time  Wallack 
and  his  company  alternated  with  the  Italian  company  at  the 
Italian  Opera  House.  A  German  family  just  arrived  in  Paris, 
and  anxious  to  see  the  far-famed  Madame  Ristori,  sent  their 
valet  (le  jilace  to  procure  a  box  at  the  theatre  where  she  per- 
formed. On  the  follo^^^ng  night  they  were  all  installed  at  an 
early  hour,  and  wondering  at  the  little  enthusiasm  the  half- 
empty  house  manifested.  However,  they  listened  attentively, 
neither  understanding  a  word  nor  yet  clearly  making  out  the 
pantomime,  but  getting  up,  notwithstanding,  a  very  lively  ad- 

mii-ation  for  the  young  and  pretty  Miss ,  whom  they  took 

for  Madame  Ristori.  The  next  day  they  were  congratulating 
themselves  before  some  friends  on  their  good  fortune  of  the 
previous  evening  in  seeing  the  charming  Italian  tragedienne  in 
"Maria  Stuarda,"  when,  to  their  amazement,  they  were  in- 
formed they  had  seen  Miss ■  in  Desdemona. 

Moi'e  than  one  French  critic  might  have  found  himself 
making  a  similar  mistake.  Not  so  M.  Fiorentino,  who,  a 
Neapolitan  by  birth,  is  in  wit  and  talent  a  Frenchman.  This 
"OTiter  is  one  of  the  few  foreigners  who  have  acquired  the 
French  language  in  such  perfection  that  to  them  it  is  as  their 
own,  and  who  have  borrowed  even  the  character  of  the  nation 
that  has  adopted  them.  Since  the  days  of  the  learned  Abbe 
Galignani  and  Baron  de  Grimm,  we  know  of  none  who,  not 
a  Frenchman  born,  has  been  so  thoroughly  French  in  his  lan- 
guage. 

M.  Fiorentino  did  not  attain  his  present  high  position  in 
the  ranks  of  the  French  press  without  some  trouble.  He  has 
had  to  struggle  against  jealousies,  to  conquer  antipathies,  to  con- 
found calumnies,  but  he  has  at  last  succeeded  in  taking  his 


316  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

place.  He  openly  edits  the  dramatic  feuillelon  of  the  "Con- 
stitutionnel,"  and,  under  the  name  of  "De  Eouviere,"  the 
musical  feuilleton  of  the  "Moniteur."  Monsieur  Fiorentino 
is  especially  noted  for  the  correctness  of  his  taste,  for  a  style 
full  of  vivacity,  piquancy,  rich  coloring,  clearness,  and  ele- 
gance ;  the  romantic  neologism  Avhich  might  be  excusable  in 
an  Italian,  never  throws  a  blemish  over  his  productions. 

No  one  has  written  a  more  faithful  and  more  highly-finish- 
ed portrait  of  JNIadame  Eistori,  yet  he  has  not  been  in  any 
degree  influenced  by  his  nationality,  and  has  done  as  complete 
justice  to  the  cosmopolitan  Racheh 

If  we  have  entered  on  a  somewhat  minute  description  of 
the  rival  that  sprung  up  so  unexpectedly  before  the  eyes  of 
the  autocrat  of  the  Theatre  Franc^ais,  the  effect  her  advent 
had  on  the  capricious  Rachel  must  excuse  the  apparent  di- 
gression.    From  the  voluntary  retreat  no  prayers,  no  entreat- 
ies, no  sense  of  equity  could  induce  the  imperious  socictaire  to 
leave,  the  reception  shown  to  Madame  Kistori  suddenly  drew 
her.     The  echo  of  the  applause  so  enthusiastically  bestowed 
on  the  Italian  Muse  grated  harshly  on  the  ears  of  the  French 
Melpomene  ;  every  word  of  praise  addressed  to  another  was  a 
theft  to  her  disadvantage.     She  was  amazed  that  the  public, 
in  lieu  of  mourning  her  departure,  thought  her  less  worthily 
compensated ;  she  was  vexed  to  tlie  soul  when  she  found  her 
caprices,  her  sulks,  her  imperious  will  totally  unheeded,  her 
smile  or  her  fiown  no  longer  regulating  the  temperature  with- 
in the  walls  of  the  temple.     For  the  first  time  she  trembled, 
for  there  was  real  danger :  this  was  no  competitor  she  could 
scorn  or  frown  down.     Right  willing  was  she  to  descend  from 
her  throne  and  seek  in  distant  lands  the  substantial  gifts  of 
Pluto,  but  she  did  not  choose  the  vacant  seat  should  be  filled 
in  the  mean  while.     AVith  swelling  heart  and  lowering  brow 
she  went  to  see  this  fiiir-haired  stranger  who  had  crossed  the 
Alps,  bringing  two  ci'owns  already  from  her  own  land,  that 
of  comedy  and  that  of  tragedy — a  union  of  honors  Rachel  her- 
self had  failed  to  achieve. 

It  was  on  the  5th  of  June  that  Rachel,  who  had  been  vainly 
solicited  to  lend  on  the  next  evening  her  co-operation  to  the  an- 
nual celebration  of  Corncille's  birth-day,  had  gone  to  theThea- 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  317 

tre  Itallcn  to  see  "  Myrrha."  At  the  moment  that  the  daughter 
of  PasiphcB  was  receiving  an  ovation  such  as,  perhaps,  Camille 
herself  had  never  been  the  object  of,  the  latter  came  suddenly 
to  the  conclusion  that  she  Avould  grant  what  she  had  so  ob- 
stinately refused;  she  then  and  there,  in  her  box,  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  dispatched  a  note  to  M.  Arsene  IIous- 
saje,  desiring  her  name  should  be  put  on  the  bills  in  the  morn- 
ing for  the  performance  of  Camille. 

During  the  tragedy  she  had  steadfastly  gazed  at  Myrrha 
with  mute,  concentrated  attention,  but  without  giving  the 
sliglitest  token  of  approval.  As  an  excuse  for  this  discour- 
teous conduct,  a  critic  suggested  that  she  was  probably  ap- 
plauding internally.  As  a  proof  that  her  emotion  was  none 
the  less  powerful  for  being  undemonstrative,  he  added  that  it 
had  rendered  her  so  ill  that  she  was  compelled  to  leave  before 
the  end  of  the  play  !  Madame  Kistori  complaining  to  M. 
Lcgouve  of  the  incivility  of  her  sister  artiste  in  leaving  in  the 
middle  of  the  play,  "Madame,"  replied  the  poet,  '-the  jeal- 
ousy of  Rachel  Avas  the  only  thing  wanting  to  confirm  your 
fame." 

On  the  following  evening,  a  box  having  been  politely  placed 
by  the  manager  of  the  Theatre  Fran^-ais  at  the  disposal  of 
Madame  Ristori,  it  was  her  turn  to  examine  with  studious  at- 
tention the  French  tragedienne.  Her  approbation,  however, 
was  not  silent ;  it  was  openly  and  exceedingly  enthusiastic, 
bestowed  with  all  the  lUxYinn  foitgue.  She  took  her  glass  from 
her  eye  only  to  applaud,  and  ceased  to  applaud  only  to  take 
it  up  again  and  resume  her  admiring  gaze. 

The  next  evening  Myi-rha  was  again  performed,  and  again 
did  Rachel  witness  the  performance,  but  this  time  slie  thought 
fit  to  send  a  complimentary  message  to  Madame  Ristori. 

But,  whatever  her  real  feelings,  it  was  soon  evident  that 
Rachel,  piqued  to  the  utmost  by  the  faithlessness  of  the  public, 
was  determined  to  endeavor  to  arouse  its  former  devotion, 
and  turn  the  tide  of  allegiance  that  had  dared  to  deviate  from 
its  proper  course.  She  performed  during  the  month  of  June 
the  chief  plays  of  her  repertoire  in  quick  succession,  and  with 
all  the  animation  and  talent  she  possessed. 

But,  though  applause  was  liberally  bestowed  on  her  eflTorts, 


318  MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

she  felt  she  no  longer  reigned  alone.  Each  day  the  press 
teemed  with  the  praises  of  Madame  Ristori,  and  not  on  her 
talent  only  were  these  lavish  encomiums  bestowed  ;  her  beauty, 
her  charming,  unaffected  simplicity  of  manner,  her  tact,  her 
domestic  virtues,  all  were  continually  the  themes  of  admira- 
tion. This  was  wormwood  to  her  who  never  could  brook  the 
semblance  of  a  rival  near  her  throne  ;  but  she  had  committed 
faults  that  were  irretrievable,  and  now  paid  the  penalty.  She 
had  offended  the  public,  and  now  the  public  had  found  a  new 
toy,  and  used  it  as  an  instrument  to  break  the  old  one  with. 
The  vexation  this  caused  her  put  an  end  to  her  hesitation 
with  regard  to  the  projected  voyage  to  America ;  her  indecis- 
ion vanished  at  once,  and  she  left  Paris  on  Friday,  the  27th 
of  July,  for  London,  determined,  after  fulfilling  a  short  engage- 
ment there,  to  proceed  to  the  States. 

Hitherto  she  had  constantly  found  some  new  excuse  to  de- 
lay signing  her  engagement  with  her  brother  Eaphael,  the  pro- 
jector and  manager  of  this  new  expedition.  A  presentiment 
of  evil  seemed  to  have  warned  her  against  this  last  venture, 
and  more  than  once  she  startled  the  expectant  tribe  of  kin- 
dred by  declaring  she  would  not  go.  But  the  insolence  of  the 
Parisian  public  in  daring  to  set  u])  a  new  altar,  in  presuming 
to  invent  a  new  Muse,  deserved  condign  punishment,  and  noth- 
ing less  than  this  prolonged  absence  was  judged  sufficiently 
severe. 

On  the  30th  of  July  the  tragedienne  appeared  in  "  Les  Hor- 
aces" at  St.  James's  Theatre.  The  performance  was  honored 
with  the  presence  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Aumale  and 
the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Nemours,  who  applauded  very  warm- 
ly. The  illustrious  exiles  were  among  the  last  of  their  coun- 
trymen who  saw  her  on  a  European  stage.  The  Duke  of 
Aumale  remarked  to  Mr.  Mitchell,  who  saw  him  to  his  car- 
riage, that  "  the  beautiful  language  of  Corneille,  the  language 
of  his  native  land,  had  been  to  him  like  a  refreshing  dew  after 
a  burning  summci"'s  day." 

On  the  1st  of  August  "Phedre"  was  given;  on  the  3d, 
"  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  ;"  on  the  4th,  "  Andromaque  ;"  on  the 
6th,  "Lady  Tai-tuffe ;"  on  the  8th,  "Adrienne  Lecouvreur." 
After  this  series  of  performances  Mademoiselle  Rachel  con- 


M1-3I0IES    OF    RACHEL.  319 

sented  to  speak  the  dream  in  '•'  Atbalie"  at  an  entertainment 
given  on  the  9th,  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Drury  Lane,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  French  Benevolent  Society. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

1855. 


Departure  for  America. — Passion  for  Cards  and  Affection  for  her  Broth- 
er.— An  ill-advised  Expedition. — Voyage  aci-oss  the  Atlantic. — Un- 
pleasant Prediction. — A  sad  Aagiiri-. — Our  past  Errors  pursue  us 
through  Life. — A  Stimulant  to  Learning. — Spontaneous  Generosity. 
— ''La  ^larseillaise"  in  the  Kew  World. — A  slight  Cold. — Boston. 
— Philadelphia. 

In  London  the  resolution  of  the  tragedienne  had  well-nigh 
failed  her  completely.  Her  reception  by  the  English  audience, 
with  whom  she  was  always  a  great  favorite,  had  this  time 
been  exceedingly  brilliant.  She  knew  how  generous  and  how 
capable  of  appreciating  her  was  the  public  she  was  forsaking ; 
she  had  strong  doubts  of  the  one  she  was  going  to  see.  The 
millions  that  had  appeai-ed  so  sure  in  the  distance,  as  the  time 
for  gathering  them  approached,  seemed  very  problematical,  and 
now  most  unwilling  was  she  to  undertake  the  distant  expedi- 
tion. 

We  have  now  reached  one  of  the  most  important  events  in 
the  career  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel ;  its  dire  results  hung  like 
a  funeral  pall  over  the  remainder  of  her  life,  which  it  short- 
ened and  finally  ended. 

This  ill-planned  expedition,  the  subject  of  the  most  absurd 
and  exaggerated  reports,  was  altogether  a  financial  speculation, 
in  which  art  was  even  more  than  usually  a  secondary  consid- 
eration. Rachel  herself  was  but  an  instrument  to  advance 
the  interests  of  others.  Her  whole  family  had  conspired  to 
bring  about  this  grand  finale,  which  was  intended  to  make 
every  member  of  it  rich  :  the  merit  of  its  conception  was  due 
to  the  fertile  imagination  of  Raphael.  Inexperienced,  hair- 
brained,  full  of  chimerical  illusions,  the  young  Israelite  ima"^- 
ined  that  the  pockets  of  the  citizens  of  the  United  States, 
mine?  richer  and  more  inexhaustible  than  those  of  Peru,  sole- 


320  IHEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

ly  awaited  the  advent  of  his  sister  to  yield  up  their  ready- 
coined  treasures.  Even  old  Felix,  who  had  hitherto  mani- 
fested the  most  consummate  skill  and  prudence  in  the  man- 
agement of  his  daughter's  interests,  was  inoculated  with  this 
insane  spirit  of  adventure,  excusable  in  a  man  of  thirty,  but 
strange  indeed  in  one  of  his  age  and  experience.  The  conta- 
gious vertigo  resembled  the  fatal  one  of  old  which  was  the 
precursor  of  the  ruin  of  the  nation.  In  the  present  case  it 
was  the  hitherto  fortunate  Eachel  who  was  doomed  to  pay 
the  penalty  of  the  family  error. 

From  the  day  the  fascinating  vision  of  the  American  2>lacer 
took  possession  of  their  bewitched  imagination,  there  was  no 
peace  for  Eachel,  Continually  pointing  to  the  golden  mirage 
the  demon  of  covetousness  spread  before  them,  they  assailed 
her  with  constant  solicitations.  Raphael,  Sarah,  Dinah,  Leah, 
incessantly  dinned  into  her  ears  the  1,700,000  fi'ancs  realized 
by  Jenny  Lind  in  thirty-eight  nights.  An  estimate  was  made 
of  the  expenses  and  profits  of  the  expedition  :  the  latter  were 
not  to  amount  to  loss  than  2,554,600  francs.  Of  this  sum 
Eachel  was  to  receive  1,200,000  francs  free  of  all  expenses; 
her  three  sisters,  170,000  francs  each.  As  to  Eaphael,  he  was 
to  have  all  he  could  make  after  paying  expenses. 

The  least  reflection,  the  least  experience  of  men  and  things 
would  have  shown  the  weak  points  of  this  plan  of  campaign, 
and  dispelled  all  illusions.  But  these  children  of  Israel  were 
so  completely  canned  away,  American  dollars  shone  so  bright- 
ly before  their  dazzled  eyes,  they  could  not  perceive  how  little 
connection  existed  between  the  easy  gains  made  in  a  foreign 
land  by  a  singer  or  a  dancer  and  those  made  by  a  tragic  actress. 

Music,  pantomime,  and  dancing  are  universally  understood 
and  appreciated ;  they  are  at  home  wherever  they  go.  A  fine 
singer,  a  graceful  dancer,  exert  the  same  fascination  on  the 
audience,  whatever  may  be  their  nation.  To  understand  them, 
no  interpretation,  no  preliminary  studies  are  required ;  their 
aim  is  the  gratification  of  the  eye  and  ear  only. 

It  is  far  otherwise  with  the  tragic  actress,  who,  even  in  the 
country  wliose  language  she  speaks,  can  only  expect  constant 
patronage  from  a  certain  class,  the  elite  of  society,  for  taste 
and  education  are  needed  to  appreciate  her  art :  she  offers  no 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  321 

entertainment  that  can  please  tlie  masses  long ;  with  the 
crowd  curiosity  is  the  chief  inducement,  and  that  satisfied,  the 
novelty  once  gone,  the  niajority  seek  elsewhere  amusements 
better  adapted  to  their  intelligence  and  associations. 

Had  Raphael  read  with  discernment  tiie  newspaper  articles 
which  within  the  last  ten  years  had  most  powerfully  contrib- 
uted to  exalt  and  glorify  his  sister,  he  would  have  seen  the 
organs  of  the  press  constantly  complaining  of  the  indifference 
shown  by  the  French  public  for  the  master-pieces  of  their  own 
language.  Plad  he  known  any  thing  of  the  history  of  great 
dramatic  artists,  he  would  have  remembered  that  Talma,  the 
great  Talma  himself,  never,  even  when  in  the  apogee  of  his 
fame,  attained  to  the  sum  of  the  receipts  of  the  houses  brought 
by  Madame  Catalani  and  IMadame  Malibran.  He  would  have 
learned  that  the  art  of  the  tragedian  is  a  liberal  art,  and  not 
a  money-making  one,  exercising  its  influence  on  the  elite  and 
not  on  the  crowd.  He  may  possibly  have  been  led  to  form  his 
conclusions  by  the  enthusiasm  always  manifested  for  his  sister 
in  England.  He  did  not  consider  that  she  found  there  a  nu- 
merous and  highly-educated  aristocracy ;  that  the  gentry — in 
fact,  all  the  upper  classes — are  well  acquainted  with  the  French 
language,  and  familiar  with  its  great  authors ;  that  the  dis- 
tance between  the  two  countries  permitted  of  a  constant  inter- 
change of  ideas  that  rendered  the  appreciation  of  French  dra- 
matic literature  and  its  interpreters  easy. 

He  did  not  pause  to  reflect  that  in  America,  though  educa- 
tion is  far  more  widely  disseminated,  it  is  also  more  superfi- 
cial ;  that  this  busy  nation,  while  it  astonishes  the  rest  of  the 
world  by  the  gigantic  advances  it  makes  in  all  the  mechanical 
arts,  by  its  wonderful  inventions  in  navigation,  in  agriculture, 
has  had  no  time  as  yet  to  perfect  itself  in  the  arts  that  are 
less  practically  useful — no  leisure  to  cultivate  the  taste  for 
things  that  to  old  Europe  ai-e  necessaries  and  to  young  Amer- 
ica superfluities. 

Had  Raphael  been  guilty  of  two  literary  ideas,  his  wild 
anticipations  of  success  would  have  been  somewhat  tamed  by 
the  difference  between  the  French  classic  drama  and  the  En- 
glish or  Shakspearian,  which  is  also  that  of  the  United  States. 
That  Madame  Ristori  should  charm  even  those  among  the 

O  2 


822  MEMOIES    OF    RACHEL. 

Parisians  who  were  ignorant  of  her  language  is  easily  ac- 
counted for;  the  subjects  of  the  tragedies  she  played  were, 
for  the  most  part,  familiar  to  the  French  public ;  they  were 
treated  and  developed  in  the  same  manner  as  their  own  trage- 
dies ;  they  therefore  asked  no  more  than  the  Italian  actress 
could  give  them,  and  that  they  did  not  understand  they  knew 
intuitively. 

It  could  not  be  thus  in  regard  to  Rachel  in  America;  its 
citizens  were  accustomed  to  dramas  in  which  the  tragic  and 
the  comic  elements,  the  sublime  and  the  grotesque,  the  lan- 
guage of  royalty  and  that  of  the  lower  classes  are  all  com- 
bined and  mingled.  They  do  not,  even  in  their  own  lan- 
guage, like  to  have  that  narrated  and  described  that  might  be 
put  into  action  before  their  own  eyes.  It  was  not  probable 
that  those  accustomed  to  such  scenic  performances  would  be 
entertained  by  French  tragedies  —  tragedies  of  Greek  and 
Latin  origin,  without  any  variety  of  scene  or  style,  where  the 
language,  always  sublime,  never  unbends,  where  the  dramatis 
pei'souce  never  even  change  their  buskins. 

The  above  considerations  are,  certcs,  not  far-fetched,  and 
would  have  presented  themselves  to  any  thinking  mind,  and, 
had  he  reflected,  would  have  dispelled  some  of  the  vapors  that 
spread  so  thick  a  haze  over  the  brain  of  Raphael  Felix. 

A  last,  and  certainly  not  the  least  important  consideration, 
was  one  quite  overlooked  by  the  ambitious  manager.  He 
forgot,  or  did  not  choose  to  remember,  that  between  him,  the 
improvident  and  inexperienced  youth,  ignoring  the  language, 
the  customs,  and  manners,  the  men  and  things  of  the  country 
he  was  going  to  put  to  contribution,  and  Barnum,  the  famous 
showman  who  exhibited  Jenny  Lind,  and  whose  extraordinary 
tact,  great  experience,  and  well-combined  measures  in  the  way 
of  puifs,  trumpet-pealed  announcements,  «fec.,  &c.,  had  so  large- 
ly influenced  her  success,  there  was  an  immeasurable  dis- 
tance. 

From  the  moment  this  great  project  was  conceived  to  that 
which  witnessed  its  execution,  nothing  else  was  thought  of, 
nothing  else  was  cared  for.  We  will  not  pause  to  speak  of 
all  the  attempts  made  by  friends  and  admirers  to  dissuade 
the  tragedienne  from  this  suicidal  design.     It  was  whis])ere(l 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  323 

that  inducements  of  considerable  pecuniary  value  were  tried 
in  vain.  Among  these  bits  of  private  gossip,  it  was  said  that, 
in  accordance  with  a  Avish  expressed  by  the  tragedienne  to 
possess  a  set  of  clasps  to  complete  the  superb  ^;an«'e  of  jewels 
she  wore  with  the  costume  o{  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  the  sum 
of  100,000  francs  was  offered  on  condition  she  would  remain 
in  France.  This,  though  a  paltry  consideration  when  opposed 
to  the  potent  one  of  the  expected  1,200,000  francs,  was  still 
too  important  to  be  slighted.  The  condition  was  accepted, 
the  sum  was  sent ;  part  of  it  was  used  for  the  purchase  of  the 
clasps,  the  remainder  prudently  added  to  the  mass,  and  the 
tragedienne  remained  :  the  handsome  bribe  purchased  a  respite 
of  six  months. 

It  must  be  owned,  however,  that  it  was  long  before  Rachel 
herself  viewed  the  emigration  in  the  fair  colors  in  which  it 
was  pictured  by  those  who  had  an  interest  in  her  going. 
Such  was  her  irresolution,  that,  to  the  very  last  moment, 
Raphael  trembled  lest  she  should  give  it  up  altogethex*.  How- 
ever, it  was  said  that  he  had  wisely  provided  against  such  an 
emergency,  and  insured  himself  in  more  ways  than  one  against 
any  eventual  backsliding.  Under  color  of  losses  at  the  Bourse, 
he  borrowed  a  sum  to  defray  the  expenses  of  a  preliminary 
voyage  to  America,  vmdertaken  to  make  the  arrangements  for 
her  reception  there.  He  afterward  obtained  a  second  install- 
ment for  some  other  preparatory  requisite,  then  again  another 
to  advance  the  month's  pay  to  the  actors  engaged,  for  the 
passage  expenses,  &c.,  &c.  When  he  had  thus  borrowed  to 
the  amount  of  80  or  100,000  francs,  he  felt  more  secure  for 
his  own  share  of  compensation. 

On  the  11th  of  August  all  doubt  was  at  an  end;  Rachel 
embarked  in  the  Pacific.  The  countenance  of  the  tragedienne 
wore  a  heavy  cloud.  Mute  and  thoughtful,  she  seemed  to 
leave  the  shores  of  Europe  with  marked  reluctance.  It  might 
be  that  the  natural  grief  of  parting  with  friends  had  thus  sad- 
dened her ;  some  of  the  members  of  the  company  suggested 
that  she  might  be  reflecting  on  M.  Dumas's  pleasant  predic- 
tion that,  "should  Mademoiselle  Rachel  succumb  to  climate, 
fatigue,  or  disease,  like  Mademoiselle  Sontag,  her  brother  Ra- 
phael would  make  the  best  of  the  misfortune  by  having  her 


324  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

embalmed,  and  exhibiting  the  body  of  Rachel  to  the  Ameri- 
cans, since  he  could  not  exhibit  her  alive." 

Her  very  first  day  on  board  was  marked  by  an  incident 
that  might  well  have  inspired  sad  presentiments.  One  of  the 
passengers,  who  was  far  gone  in  a  consumption,  died  that 
afternoon.  The  body  was  put  into  a  coffin  and  placed  in  one 
of  the  boats.  For  the  first  few  days  the  presence  of  death 
cast  a  gloom  on  the  passengers;  for  some  time,  when  walking 
on  the  deck,  they  either  avoided  the  side  where  the  body  hung 
in  the  little  boat,  or  the  laugh  was  hushed,  the  voice  lowered 
to  a  whisper,  the  quick  pace  slackened  as  they  passed  by. 
But  the  impression  of  awe  that  produced  this  respect  was 
soon  effaced,  -and  the  merry  chat,  the  light  song,  and  cheerful 
laugh  were  heard,  as  uncontrolled  and  free  as  though  that  sad 
memento  of  what  was,  is,  and  will  be,  to  the  end  of  time  it- 
self, Avas  no  longer  there.  The  mute  eloquence  of  those  lips 
doomed  to  eternal  silence  was  soon  unheeded  by  the  thought- 
less crowd,  and  the  poor  aunt  of  the  youth  was  the  only  one 
whose  countenance  retained  any  trace  of  sadness. 

During  the  passage  Captain  Nye  presented  to  his  celebrated 
passenger  a  superb  mahogany  box,  filled  with  American  per- 
fumery, the  gift  of  a  citizen  of  New  York,  who  wished  to  re- 
main incognito.  The  gallantry  of  her  unknown  admirer  did 
not,  however,  render  the  tragedienne  more  cheerful,  and  she 
finally  chose  to  remain  altogether  in  her  cabin. 

The  day  before  the  arrival  of  the  Pacific  she  condescended, 
however,  to  make  her  appearance  at  the  public  table.  This 
was  the  day  of  what  is  called  the  captain's  dinner,  Avhen  Cham- 
pagne is  supplied  gi'atis,  and  toasts,  speeches,  and  congratu- 
lations are  made  and  exchanged.  After  the  usual  toasts  to 
the  captain  and  to  the  ladies,  some  one  proposed  the  health 
of  Mademoiselle  Eachel.  So  far  there  was  nothing  unusual 
or  out  of  the  w'ay  in  the  proceedings,  but  they  did  not  end 
here.  It  occurred  to  some  busy  gentleman  that  the  members 
of  the  French  company  would  hail  with  delight  an  opportu- 
nity of  singing  the  "  Marseillaise :"  probably  he  thought  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  singing  it  night  and  morning,  as  some 
other  people  are  supposed  to  say  their  prayers,  and  with  like 
hopes  of  a  happy  result.     His  expectations  were  rather  dis- 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  325 

appointed,  for  the  astonishment  of  those  thus  unexpectedly 
called  upon  was  great  indeed.  The  honor  was  unanimously 
declined,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  not  one  knew  by  heart 
the  French  national  hymn. 

No  one  seemed  inclined  to  make  a  display  of  his  musical 
powers,  until  a  gentleman  from  New  Orleans,  having  devoted 
himself,  Curtius-like,  for  the  good  of  all,  volunteered,  on  con- 
dition the  burden  of  the  song  should  be  taken  up  by  all  pres- 
ent. The  reputation  of  the  French  company  for  patriotism 
was  thus  saved.  As  for  the  burden,  it  was  taken  up,  and  in 
such  guise  that,  whatever  credit  the  singei's  deserved  for  good- 
will, it  was  evident  there  was  nothing  to  boast  of  in  the  way 
of  harmony.  It  was  plainly  apparent  they  were  nearing  a 
land  of  liberty,  for  every  man  sent  forth  his  voice  in  the  most 
independent  manner,  perfectly  free  from  all  trammels  of  time 
or  measure,  and  utterly  careless  of  his  neighbor's  performance. 
At  any  rate,  the  result  was  one  that  had  not  always  been 
the  case  with  the  belligerent  hymn — it  ended,  not  in  tears  and 
blood,  but  in  heai-ty  and  prolonged  merriment. 

The  close  of  the  voyage  was  marked  by  the  usual  act  of 
conventional  generosity  which  custom  has  made  a  law  for  all 
artists  of  European  celebrity,  and  which  to  neglect  would  be 
to  peril  the  expected  success.  Mademoiselle  Kachel  remitted 
to  the  captain  two  thousand  francs  to  be  distributed  among 
the  crew  of  the  Pacific,  and  eight  hundred  francs  for  the  Sail- 
ors' Orphan  Asylum.  Thinking  this  a  favorable  opportunity, 
one  of  the  lady-passengers  requested  the  generous  artiste  would 
give  a  few  scenes  from  Corneille  or  Racine  for  the  gi-atifica- 
tion  of  all  the  passengers.  Rather  surprised  at  a  call  for 
which  her  experience  of  English  society  had  not  prepared  her, 
the  tragedienne  returned  a  very  positive  refusal. 

At  seven  o'clock  on  the  following  morning  Rachel  and  her 
companions  landed  on  the  shores  of  the  El  Dorado,  on  which 
so  many  hopes  were  founded.  They  were  received  by  Mr. 
Gustave  Naquet,  the  agent  of  Raphael,  who  seemed  rather 
annoyed  than  pleased  that  the  Pacific  should  have  got  in  so 
early.  The  cause  was  soon  explained  :  preparations  had  been 
made  to  receive  Hermione  with  all  due  honors ;  a  steam-boat 
was  to  have  brought  out  her  guards — the  Lafayette  company 


326  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

of  militia,  consisting  of  French  citizens  of  New  York — with 
a  band  of  music  playing  French  tunes,  to  meet  the  steamer 
and  greet  its  celebrated  passenger.  A  number  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen  had  been  invited  to  join  the  party.  Great,  there- 
fore, was  the  disappointment  when  the  Pacific,  expected  at  ten 
o'clock,  chose  to  anticipate  the  time  by  three  hours,  and  spoil 
this  little  nautical  fete. 

The  tragedienne,  however,  seemed  rather  rejoiced  at  having 
escaped  the  threatened  ovation,  and  congratulated  herself  on 
being  permitted  to  disembark  quietly,  without  the  annoyance 
of  a  gaping  crowd  escorting  her  to  her  hotel.  But  she  was 
not  to  be  let  off  so  easily ;  no  sooner  had  she  laid  her  head  on 
the  pillow,  tired,  weary,  and  glad  to  think  she  was  once  more 
on  terra  Jirma,  Avhen  the  persevering  Lafayette  Guards  congre- 
gated under  her  windows  and  commenced  their  serenade. 

The  victim  was  doomed;  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  to 
resign  herself  with  as  a  good  a  grace  as  might  be  to  the  in- 
fliction. She  di-essed  herself  and  made  her  appearance  on  the 
balcony.  Content  with  this  submission,  her  tormentors  finally 
permitted  her  to  seek  the  rest  she  so  greatly  needed. 

The  St.  Nicholas,  with  all  its  New  World  splendor,  was  not 
the  place  to  suit  one  accustomed  to  the  quiet  comfort  and  re- 
tirement of  a  European  hotel.  The  very  next  day  found  Ra- 
chel installed  with  her  younger  sisters,  Leah  and  Dinah,  in  a 
private  boarding-house  in  Clinton  Place.  Raphael  and  the 
father  went  to  other  lodgings,  and  Sarah  chose  to  reside  by 
herself  in  another  quarter  of  the  town.  This  division  of  the 
family  gave  rise  to  numerous  conjectures  as  to  the  motives 
that  led  to  it,  as  though  some  very  potent  one  were  needed 
for  such  a  measure.  The  remainder  of  the  company  took 
lodgings  wherever  it  suited  their  means  and  convenience. 

Preparations  were  now  actively  made  for  the  great  attack 
on  the  pockets  of  the  American  citizens,  and  the  manager  was 
soon  exceedingly  busy  carrying  out  the  operations  of  the  siege 
at  his  office  in  Wall  Street.  A  wonderful  effect  of  the  desire 
to  make  money  manifested  itself  in  the  quickness  with  which 
Raphael  made  himself  sufficiently  master  of  the  language  of 
the  country  for  all  ordinary  purposes.  On  his  arrival  he 
could  say  but  a  few  sentences ;  in  a  few  days  he  could  not 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  327 

only  understand  all  that  was  said,  but  make  others  understand 
him — when  he  chose.  We  say  when  he  chose,  for  it  did  not 
always  suit  Raphael's  purpose  to  be  too  clear.  When  Ameri- 
cans who  spoke  French  well  attempted  to  prove  their  pro- 
ficiency in  that  language  when  applying  for  seats,  or  for  any 
other  purpose  connected  with  the  theatre,  the  prudent  mana- 
ger preferred  replying  in  broken  English,  because,  as  he  used 
to  tell  the  actors,  he  could  not  be  made  responsible  for  any 
thing  he  might  be  understood  to  promise — he  was  liable  to 
make  mistakes  in  a  foi*eign  tongue,  and  to  say  one  thing  when 
he  meant  another.  Thus  he  found  means  to  evade  keeping 
such  engagements  as  turned  out  to  be  against  his  interests. 

On  the  3d  of  September  the  tragedienne  made  her  first  ap- 
pearance on  the  boards  of  the  Metropolitan  Theatre.  The 
play  that  preceded  the  tragedy  was  "Les  Droits  de  I'Homme," 
which,  much  as  it  was  liked  in  Europe,  scarcely  pleased  the 
majority  of  the  audience,  who,  not  understanding  French,  and 
having  come  expressly  to  see  Kachel,  thought  the  two  acts  of 
the  comedy  interminable.  They  had,  however,  to  endure, 
with  what  patience  they  possessed,  the  first  act  of  "  Les  Ho- 
races" before  their  curiosity  could  be  satisfied.  At  length  it 
was  Gamine's  turn  to  come  on,  and  she  was  greeted  with  three 
or  four  rounds  of  applause.  To  one  who  was  accustomed  to 
create  an  extraordinary  sensation  wherever  she  went,  and  who 
had  been  recalled  twenty-two  times  in  Vienna,  the  reception 
given  her  by  the  New-Yorkers  seemed  but  lukewarm.  She 
was,  however,  warmly  applauded,  and  recalled  at  the  end — 
not  of  the  tragedy,  for  it  was  not  all  acted — but  of  the  role. 
The  applause  of  the  European  claque  being  wholly  unknown 
in  the  United  States,  the  bona  fide  expressions  of  approbation 
the  real  public  there  give  is  far  more  valuable,  though,  per- 
haps, less  violent  and  prolonged  than  that  of  the  hired  Romans 
stationed  under  the  lustre  of  a  Parisian  theatre. 

This  first  performance  produced  2G,334  francs,  a  sum  ex- 
ceeding any  one  ever  made  in  a  single  night  by  any  actor  in 
Europe.  But  it  was  far  below  the  brilliant  expectations  that 
had  been  founded  on  the  success  obtained  by  Jenny ;  as  long 
as  the  singer's  gains  were  the  point  of  comparison,  that  which 
would  have  been  thought  a  very  handsome  reward  dwindled 


328  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

into  insignificance.  The  LincVs  first  performance  had  brought 
nearly  100,000  francs. 

Notwithstanding  Raphael's  disappointment,  he  could  not 
improve  the  situation  of  affairs ;  no  after  performance  even 
attained  as  high  a  sum  as  this  first  one ;  and  though  it  will  be 
seen  that  every  one  yielded  a  much  larger  sum  than  he  could 
have  hoped  to  realize  dui'ing  a  similar  tour  in  any  European 
country,  it  was  nothing  to  those  who  had  counted  on  fifty  or 
sixty  thousand  francs  every  night. 

On  the  4th  "  Phedre"  was  given,  and  another  comedy ;  on 
the  Gth,  "  Adrienne  Lecouvreur."  This  drama  was  in  Amer- 
ica much  preferred  to  any  of  the  classic  tragedies,  and  this 
was  also  the  case  in  Europe  wherever  French  was  not  the 
language  of  the  country.  For  those  not  perfectly  familiar 
with  the  literature  of  France,  the  long  speeches  in  the  trage- 
dies of  Corneille  and  Racine  must  have  been  exceedingly  tire- 
some. Besides,  there  is  nothing  in  these  to  please  the  eye; 
the  eternal  repetition  of  the  same  costumes — a  few  yards  of 
flannel — and  of  the  same  decoration.  The  Greek  palace,  with 
its  two  old  red  arm-chairs,  must  invest  the  whole  thing  in  the 
eyes  of  foreigners  with  the  most  unendurable  monotony ;  add 
to  these  drawbacks  the  being  obliged  to  follow  the  author  in 
an  execrable  translation  that  has  neither  rhyme  nor  reason, 
that  makes  the  most  egregious  nonsense  of  the  most  eloquent 
passages,  and  in  wdiich  the  sublime  is  grotesque,  the  pathetic 
ludicrous ;  then  let  the  public  consist  of  people  who  have  been 
too  busy  money-making  all  their  lives  to  have  had  time  to 
study  the  demigod  passions  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  heroes, 
to  have  learned  to  appreciate  the  simple  grandeur,  the  sculp- 
tural purity,  the  archaic  severity  of  art,  and  what  wonder 
that  it  should  prefer  the  brilliant,  high-colored  melo-drama 
"  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,"  with  its  change  of  decoration  at  each 
act,  its  rich  costumes'?  Mademoiselle  Rachel  and  her  sister 
Sarah  might  have  followed  the  precedent  set  by  Mademoiselle 
Georges,  and  had  it  announced  on  the  bills  that  they  "  played 
with  all  their  diamonds,"  so  dazzlingly  were  they  adorned  in 
"  Adrieime." 

The  pure  lines,  the  still,  statuesque  beauty  that  no  grief, 
however  violent,  must  alter,  the  stern  dignity  that  would  dis- 


MEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL.  329 

dain  to  exhibit  its  agony  in  exaggerated  contortions,  the  eter- 
nal serenity  and  heroic  grace  of  the  tragic  muse  could  have  no 
charms  compared  with  those  of  the  drama,  her  bastard  sister, 
whose  unbridled  passions,  nervous  excitability,  and  convulsive 
gi-ief  are  more  in  accordance  with  the  hlasc  taste  of  the  day, 
and  delight  those  who  have  no  time  to  analyze  their  sensa- 
tions, and  distinguish  truth  from  fiction. 

During  Mademoiselle  Kachel's  stay  in  New  York  the  yellow 
fever  was  raging  in  Norfolk  and  Portsmouth  with  extraordi- 
nary violence.  Public  subscriptions  were  every  where  raised 
to  remedy  in  some  measure  the  misery  and  destitution  that 
its  ravages  occasioned.  M.  Gustave  Naquet  having  repre- 
sented to  the  tragedienne  that  it  was  customary  for  the  stars 
who  levied  large  taxes  on  the  land  to  show  themselves  munif- 
icent in  such  cases  as  the  present,  and  that  the  mite  she  was 
to  contribute  must  not  be  under  a  thousand  dollars,  she  reluct- 
antly consented  to  make  this  donation  to  the  families  of  the 
victims.  The  capital  thus  employed  not  bringing  in  the  im- 
mediate interest  she  had  expected,  for  the  Americans  were  too 
much  accustomed  to  such  acts  to  give  them  the  importance 
she  attached  to  her  spontaneous  gift,  it  was  soon  regretted, 
and  she  reproached  her  adviser  quite  bitterly,  saying,  "Well, 
what  good  have  my  5000  francs  done  me?  Just  money 
thrown  away." 

In  the  mean  while  the  ever-busy  Lafayette  Guards  took  it 
into  their  wise  heads  that  Mademoiselle  Kachel  should  sing 
them  the  "Marseillaise."  They  had  no  particular  reason  to 
give  for  the  wish.  Because  she  had  sung  it  for  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  Parisian  populace  of  1848,  it  did  not  follow  that 
the  citizens  of  New  York  should  take  any  particular  delight 
in  it.  The  difference  of  time,  place,  people,  opportunity,  were 
considerations  totally  overlooked  by  these  exacting  gentlemen. 
Perhaps  they  imagined  the  demand  proved  their  nationality. 

"Whatever  their  motives,  they  would  give  the  tragedienne  no 
rest  until  she  had  consented  to  their  whim.  It  must  be  own- 
ed that  they  had  some  little  trouble  in  obtaining  what  they 
asked.  Mademoiselle  Rachel  refusing  at  first  on  very  good 
grounds.  As  an  apology  for  her  reluctance,  she  sent  the  fol- 
lowing letter,  alleging  inability,  to  her  exacting  countrymen. 


330  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

The  letter  was  republished  in  France  as  a  justification,  inas- 
much as  it  proved  she  had  complied  only  after  much  hesita- 
tion; but  it  scarcely  accomplished  the  desired  object,  Jules 
Janin  insisting  she  should  have  said  she  "would  not"  instead 
of  "  she  could  not ;"  she  should  have  declined  point-blank  in 
lieu  of  pleading  want  of  voice. 

"  Dear  Countrymen, — It  is  seven  years  since  I  have  sung 
the  '  Marseillaise ;'  at  the  time  I  did  sing  it  I  had  voice,  and 
my  health  was  still  young.  Now  I  am  often  exliausted  after 
the  play  ;  I  should,  therefore,  really  feai'  to  injui'e  the  interests 
of  others  should  I  increase  my  fatigues. 

"  You  may  believe  in  the  deep  regret  I  feel  in  not  daring 
to  promise  what  you  desire  of  me,  when  I  tell  you  I  loved  to 
sing  the  '  Mai'seillaise'  as  I  love  to  act  my  finest  part  in  Cor- 
neille. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  countrymen,  &c.,  &c.,         Rachel. 

"New  York,  September  8th,  1855." 

But  the  Guards  were  not  to  be  thus  discouraged ;  and  final- 
ly, on  the  28th  of  September,  having,  after  the  evening's  per- 
formance, repaired  to  her  residence  and  given  her  a  serenade 
with  accompaniment  of  vociferations  for  the  "Marseillaise," 
they  obtained  a  solemn  promise  from  Raphael  that  the  "Mar- 
seillaise" would  very  shortly  constitute  a  part  of  the  evening's 
entertainment  ofi^ered  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel  to  the  theatre- 
going  public.  As  for  singing  it  on  a  balcony  for  the  gratifi- 
cation of  a  non-paying  street  audience,  the  tragedienne  could 
never  have  been  made  to  understand  that  such  a  thing  was 
expected  of  her. 

The  announcement  of  this  extra  performance  was,  however, 
very  injurious  to  the  receipts  of  the  intervening  ones — people 
waited  for  the  song-night. 

It  came  at  last ;  on  the  8th  of  October  the  bills  announced 
the  longed-for  "Marseillaise." 

But  in  the  interval  that  had  elapsed  between  the  promise 
and  its  realization,  a  terrible  blow  had  been  struck  at  the 
foundation  of  the  delicate  constitution  that  required  so  much 
care  and  received  so  little.     There  was  either  a  tendency  from 


MEMOIRS    OF   KACHEL.  331 

birth  to  pulmonary  disease,  or  the  seeds  had  been  sown  in 
early  youth,  when  poverty  entailed  insufficient  clothing  and 
frequent  exposure  to  the  inclement  weather.  Rachel,  when 
at  the  Conservatoire,  had  suffered  from  a;  complaint  of  the 
larynx  that  frequently  ends  in  consumption.  Now,  however, 
the  mischief,  long  dormant,  was  suddenly  developed  by  negli- 
gence. A  grand  religious  festival  having  occurred  among  the 
Hebrews  of  New  York,  Rachel  was  invited.  Ignorant  of  the 
treacherous  nature  of  the  climate  and  its  sudden  vicissitudes, 
she  had  dressed  herself  in  accordance  with  the  mildness  of 
the  day.  On  her  return  home,  however,  there  was  a  complete 
change  ;  a  sharp  east  wind  prevailed,  and  the  consequence  was 
she  caught  a  violent  cold.  From  that  moment  her  doom  was 
sealed,  for  subsequent  carelessness  rooted  the  evil. 

In  the  evening  she  went  to  a  soiree  at  the  house  of  M.  de 
Tropbriand,  the  talented  editor  of  the  "  Courier  des  Etats 
Unis,"  to  whom  the  French  were  indebted  for  very  excellent 
articles  on  their  performances.  This  second  imprudence  ag- 
gravated the  mischief  done  in  the  morning. 

On  the  night,  then,  that  the  "  Marseillaise"  was  to  be  given, 
Rachel  was  ill-disposed  to  sing ;  but  the  audience  had  assem- 
bled chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  it,  and  she  had  no  choice  ; 
as  long  as  they  saw  she  could  act,  they  took  it  for  granted  she 
could  sing. 

The  effect  of  the  "  Marseillaise"  in  New  York  was  nothing 
compared  to  that  produced  in  1848,  and  it  could  not  be  other- 
wise. In  Paris  the  house  was  filled  with  an  excited  multi- 
tude, who  heard  and  saw  through  the  medium  of  their  own 
feelings,  and  whom  it  required  little  exertion  to  raise  to  a 
pitch  of  enthusiasm  that  reacted  more  or  less  on  the  actress : 
there  was  no  such  stimulant  in  America,  where  the  hymn  of 
"  Rouget  de  I'lsle"  could  awake  no  dormant  passions,  and,  iu 
fact,  could  have  in  itself  no  more  real  interest  for  the  audience 
than  any  other  song.  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  never  had  any 
voice  for  singing,  and  still  less  ear ;  she  could  keep  neither 
time  nor  tune ;  the  orchestra  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  was 
aware  of  these  deficiencies  of  la  grande  tragedienne,  whom  Na- 
tm-e  had  never  designed  for  a  cantatrice,  and  when  she  chose 
to  step  out  of  her  sphere  it  took  care  to  supply  them ;  she  did 


332  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

not  sing  to  the  music,  the  music  followed  her  melojiceia,  dis- 
sembled, covered  the  defective  points,  and  not  unfrequently 
anticipated  and  prevented  too  discordant  ones.  She  and  the 
orchestra  were  old  acquaintances,  and  had  practiced  the  thing 
together  often.  But  here  she  was  in  the  presence  of  musicians 
who  thought  she  knew  how  to  sing,  and  therefore  played  ac- 
cording to  rule,  leaving  her  often  at  a  distance,  or  finding  her 
start  on  before ;  they  performed  a  tune  while  she  chanted  a 
sort  of  recitation  without  much  of  any.  Add  to  this  disad- 
vantage that  of  a  want  of  inclination,  a  cold  on  her  chest,  a 
cold  audience,  and  the  effect  could  scarcely  be  very  exhilara- 
ting. 

The  spectators  gave  her  credit  for  her  compliance,  if  not  for 
her  skill,  by  applauding  very  courteously.  The  esteem  in 
which  they  really  held  the  performance  was  made  apparent 
by  the  difference  of  the  receipts  when  it  was  given  the  second 
time.  On  the  first  night  it  brought  21,299  francs.  When  it 
was  repeated,  some  days  after,  there  was  a  decrease  of  over 
one  fourth  in  the  receipts,  which  only  amounted  to  15,267 
francs. 

The  benefit  of  Mademoiselle  Eachel  proved  attractive,  and 
consequently  remunerative,  though  she  gave  one  of  her  worst 
plays,  "  Jeanne  d'Arc."  She  again  performed  the  "  Marseil- 
laise," and  Madame  Lagrange  sung  the  grand  air  from  "I 
Pui'itani."     The  result  was  22,128  francs. 

Though  much  troubled  with  her  cough,  such  was  Rachel's 
impatience  to  finish  her  engagement  in  America,  that  she 
played  four  nights  in  succession.  She  had  private  reasons — 
private,  inasmuch  as  they  did  not  concern  the  public  at  large, 
but  not  secret,  for  she  did  not  hesitate  to  speak  very  openly 
on  the  subject — for  her  eagerness  to  return  to  France. 

From  New  York  the  French  company  went  to  Boston — 
not  the  best  climate  to  cure  coughs — and  on  the  23d  gave 
"  Les  Horaces."  Mademoiselle  Rachel  continued  to  perform 
in  succession  on  the  24th,  25th,  2Gth,  and  27th.  The  success 
obtained  in  Boston  was  far  more  brilliant,  considering  the  nu- 
merical diiference  in  the  population,  than  in  New  York. 

At  this  juncture  there  was  a  little  reaction,  caused  by  an 
attempt  to  obtain  higher  prices  for  certain  seats  than  those 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  333 

mentioned  on  the  bills,  and  the  rather  cavalier  way  in  which 
the  press,  so  omnipotent  in  the  United  States,  was  treated  by 
Raphael  Felix.  Whether  the  fault  was  really  in  the  man- 
ager, or  whether,  as  he  asserted,  it  was  attributable  to  out- 
side speculators,  with  which  he  had  nothing  to  do,  the  conse- 
quences fell  on  him ;  for,  though  Mademoiselle  Rachel  ap- 
peared in  two  pieces  on  the  same  night — "  Polyeucte"  and 
"Le  Moineau  de  Lesbie" — they  brought  only  some  4000 
francs.  Satisfactory  explanations  having  been  given  and  the 
•evils  complained  of  remedied,  the  breach  was  healed,  and  the 
public  restored  its  favor  to  the  French  company. 

By  a  curious  coincidence,  while  Mademoiselle  Rachel  was 
giving  the  "Adrienne  Lecouvreur"  of  Messrs.  Scribe  and  Le- 
gouve  to  the  Bostonians,  Miss  Eliza  Logan  was  playing  an 
apocryphal  Adrienne  in  a  play  translated,  or  rather  "Angli- 
cized with  variations,"  from  the  French  drama,  and  entitled 
"  The  Youth  of  Marshal  Saxe." 

On  the  2d  of  November  the  tragedy  of  "  Virginie,"  and, 
"  by  request,"  the  "  Marseillaise,"  were  given  for  the  benefit 
of  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  on  which  occasion  many  of  the 
students  of  Cambridge,  wishing  to  obtain  a  better  view  of  the 
tragedienne,  came  on  the  stage  as  supernumeraries.  All  the 
French  in  Boston,  the  majority  of  whom  were  workmen,  were 
in  the  house  that  evening  ;  of  course,  the  success  of  the  "Mar- 
seillaise" was  very  great,  that  portion  of  the  audience  having 
some  affinity  with  the  public  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  chant- 
ed it  to  in  1848.     This  was  her  last  night  in  Boston. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

18oG. 

Return  to  New  York. — Jules  .Tanin  in  the  Field  again. — Philadelphia. 
— Le  Commencement  de  la  Fin. — Little  Family  Jars. — Charleston. — 
The  last  Peiformance. — Maurice. — Havana. 

While  the  tragedienne  was  electrifying  all  the  French  pre- 
tenders to  ultra-Republicanism  in  the  American  cities,  the 
news  of  this  revival  of  by-gone  mummeries  had  reached  Paris, 
and  rekindled  the  wrath  of  her  quondam  admirer,  Jules  Janin, 


334  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

who,  in  a  very  eloquent  article,  fulminated  his  anathema,  not 
on  the  originators  of  the  sin,  but  on  those  who  were  most  in- 
nocent of  it.  He  censured  with  more  severity  and  spirit  than 
sti'ict  justice  the  American  nation  as  having  asked  for  a  revo- 
lutionary French  hymn  never  perhaps  thought  of  by  them, 
and  which  was  to  the  Frenchmen  who  did  request  it  solely  a 
reminiscence  of  their  own  land.  His  article,  making  all  al- 
lowance for  the  exaggerations  into  which  his  anger  hurried 
him,  was  ably  written,  and  annoyed  Mademoiselle  Rachel  the 
more  as,  although  full  of  praises  of  her,  it  spoke  of  her  expedi- 
tion as  a  complete  failure. 

On  the  6th  of  November  the  French  company  again  com- 
menced its  performances  in  New  York.  The  first  was  "  Adri- 
enne  Lecouvreur,"  followed,  on  the  8th,  by  "  Lady  TartuiFe," 
but  the  disadvantages  of  the  house  were  such  that  the  receipts 
wei'e  not  over  half  the  usual  sums.  The  next  perfoi'mances 
were  given  at  Niblo's  little  theatre,  and  proved  more  lucra- 
tive. 

On  the  17th  Mademoiselle  Rachel  bade  farewell  to  the 
New  Yorkers  in  "  Phedre"  and  "  Le  Moineau  de  Lesbie." 
An  ode,  written  for  the  occasion  by  M.  de  Trobriand,  Rachel 
a  I'Amerique,  was  recited  by  the  tragedienne,  and  received  with 
hearty  applause  by  the  audience. 

From  New  York  the  company  proceeded  to  Philadelphia, 
where,  in  an  evil  hour.  Mademoiselle  Rachel  made  her  ap- 
peai'ance  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  in  "  Les  Horaces,"  on 
the  19th.  The  house  had  not  been  warmed !  This  piece  of 
unpardonable  neglect  on  the  part  of  somebody  was  fatal  to 
Mademoiselle  Rachel,  whose  cough  had  continued  from  the 
day  she  caught  cold  in  the  Synagogue.  It  was  a  cold  Novem- 
ber evening,  and  the  atmosphere  of  the  house,  damp  and  raw, 
was  worse  than  that  of  the  open  street.  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel's hacking  cough  was  painful  to  hear,  and  she  looked 
wretchedly  pale  as  she  sat,  wrapped  up  in  her  shawl,  waiting 
in  the  slips  her  turn  to  come  on.  The  result  of  this  was,  that 
she  was  unable  to  rise  the  next  day,  and  remained  ill  during 
all  the  time  she  was  in  that  town. 

This  was  the  commencement  of  Raphael's  discomfiture.  So 
far,  if  the  reality  had  not  equaled  his  wild  expectations,  it  had 


IMEMOIRS    OF    KACHEL.  335 

consisted  of  such  solid,  substantial  profits  as  would  have  sat- 
isfied any  reasonable  hopes.  From  New  York  his  sister  had 
already  sent  to  France  300,000  francs  of  her  gains,  including 
her  London  receipts,  and  he  himself  G0,000  francs.  The  few 
drawbacks  that  had  occurred  had  proceeded  from  his  own  mis- 
management. In  his  eagerness  to  make  money  rapidly,  he 
had  curtailed  the  privileges  of  the  press,  infringed  the  laws 
and  customs  of  the  country  he  was  in,  quaiTcled  with  his 
agent,  and,  on  the  whole,  proved  himself  but  an  indifferent 
showman.  Besides  these  outside  troubles  there  were  httle 
domestic  jars,  inevitable  in  a  family  where  the  tempers  were 
so  various  and  some  of  them  so  violent,  and  where  the  several 
members  had  become  accustomed  to  a  perfectly  independent 
and  uncontrolled  life. 

It  Avas  more  especially  between  Eaphael  and  Sarah  that 
dissensions  were  wont  to  arise ;  but,  although  a  furious  quar- 
rel would  at  times  spring  up  from  the  most  insignificant  causes, 
it  seldom  lasted.  On  one  occasion,  some  little  misimderstand- 
ing  having  occurred  during  a  rehearsal,  there  was  a  terrible 
falling  out  between  them,  the  brother  intrenching  himself  be- 
hind his  authority  as  manager,  and  the  sister  setting  it  at 
naught  in  the  most  defiant  manner.  Sarah  knew  no  bounds 
when  in  a  passion,  and  her  language  was  then  more  apt  to 
savor  of  her  earlier  career  than  was  quite  befitting  her  present 
position ;  nor  were  the  ears  of  her  adversaries  always  safe 
from  substantial  buffets  as  well  as  angry  words.  After  a 
very  violent  interchange  of  epithets  neither  fraternal  nor  com- 
plimentary, during  which  the  manager  maintained  himself  at 
a  respectful  distance  from  his  refractory  actress,  she  declared 
she  would  tear  up  her  engagement,  to  which  the  reply  was 
that  nothing  could  give  him  greater  pleasure.  Accordingly,  the 
document  was  sent  back  in  a  dozen  pieces.  No  one  seemed 
to  think  the  country  was  in  danger,  or  that  the  interest  of  the 
French  company  would  be  severely  damaged  by  the  loss  of 
the  retiring  member.  Kaphael  was  exultant,  and  Rachel  in 
a  state  of  great  hope  that  Sarah  would  fulfill  her  threat  and 
take  herself  back  to  Europe ;  at  the  same  time  she  was  in 
great  perplexity,  for  she  dared  not  say  she  wished  her  off,  lest 
Sarah  should  stay  to  spite  her ;  nor  could  she  venture  to  tell 


336  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

her  to  stay,  lest  she  should  allow  herself  to  be  advised.  When 
Sarah,  therefore,  came  in  hot  haste  to  make  her  complaints, 
she  took  a  middle  course,  condoled  with  her  griefs,  said  it 
was  too  bad — there  was  no  living  with  Raphael — concluding 
with,  "  At  any  rate,  dear,  you  shall  not  go  penniless ;  I'll  let 
you  have  six  thousand  francs  to  help  you  to  return,  &c.,  &c." 

Meanwhile  "  Lady  TartufFe"  was  to  be  performed  the  next 
night,  and  of  course  Sarah,  who  played  the  countess,  was  out 
of  the  question.  Raphael,  too,  in  the  heat  of  the  quaiTel, 
would  not  change  the  announcement,  counting  on  Mademoi- 
selle Durey,  a  very  intelligent  actress,  who  had  played  the 
part  often,  in  the  most  able  manner,  when  with  Rachel  on 
other  tours.  Mademoiselle  Durey  replied  she  was  ready  to 
play  the  part,  but  that,  her  salary  not  permitting  her  to  own 
so  expensive  a  wardrobe  as  Mademoiselle  Sarah,  she  had  no 
dress  befitting  the  occasion.  Anxious  to  prove  to  the  delin- 
quent how  well  he  could  get  along  without  her,  Raphael  of- 
fered, if  the  dress  could  be  got  ready  in  time,  he  would  pay 
for  it.  Mademoiselle  Durey,  in  a  great  fright  lest  the  loving 
relatives  should  get  reconciled  before  she  had  secured  this 
munificent  gift,  posted  to  Stewart's,  selected  a  splendid  moire 
antique,  exacted  a  solemn  vow  of  the  dressmaker  to  bring  it 
at  the  appointed  hour,  and  awaited  in  great  trepidation  the 
result. 

"  My  forebodings  proved  true,"  quoth  Mademoiselle  Durey; 
"  they  did  make  it  up,  and  Sarah  played  the  countess,  but  the 
dress  was  in  time ;  it  had  been  cut  and  fitted  for  me,  so  Ra- 
phael had  to  pay  the  500  francs  it  had  cost.  I  was  still  fear- 
ful to  the  last  that  it  would  be  taken  fi-om  me  and  altered  for 
Leah  or  Dinah,  they  being  shorter  than  I." 

Rachel,  though  often  the  cause  of  strife,  seldom  allowed 
herself  to  quarrel.  She  invariably  preserved  the  quiet  dignity 
we  have  so  frequently  had  occasion  to  mention.  She  dreaded 
any  thing  like  a  scene.  She  had  brought  with  her  from  Eu- 
rope a  second  waiting-maid,  a  great,  awkward,  raw-boned 
virago,  called  Eleonore,  who  had  been  a  cook  all  her  life,  and 
was  entirely  ignorant  of  the  duties  of  the  elevated  station 
IMademoiselle  Rachel,  for  private  reasons,  had  promoted  her 
to.     Between  this  useless  supernumerary  and  the  faithful  old 


MEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL.  837 

Rose  there  existed  great  jealousy.  Rose  felt  that  while  she 
had  all  the  supervision  and  care  of  her  mistress's  wardrobe  and 
toilet,  this  interloper,  who  did  nothing,  was  being  petted  and 
made  much  of.  The  strife  grew  so  violent  that  Mademoiselle 
Rachel  was  obliged  to  separate  the  rivals,  and  send  Rose  to 
live  at  the  hotel  where  the  members  of  the  company  resided : 
there  she  continued  her  duty  of  attending  to  her  costumes,  &c., 
but  Eleonore  remained  attached  to  her  own  person.  This 
piece  of  injustice  was  dictated  by  the  feeling  that  rendered  her 
so  impatient  to  return  to  Europe.  The  woman  to  whom  she 
gave  the  preference  over  the  attached  creature  that  had  been 
with  her  from  the  beginning  of  her  career  was  the  servant  of 
a  friend  she  had  left  behind,  and  for  whom  she  openly  pro- 
fessed an  affection  she  had  never  felt  for  any  one  before.  She 
had  taken  of  her  own  accord  this  coarse  cook-maid  into  her 
service  at  a  salary  of  150  francs  monthly,  in  order  to  have  a 
witness  of  her  truth  and  constancy,  and  there  was  no  kind- 
ness she  did  not  lavish  on  this  woman  to  secure  her  favorable 
report. 

Poor  Rose  cried  from  morning  to  night,  and  excited  the 
sympathy  of  the  two  younger  sisters,  Leah  and  Dinah.  The 
latter,  one  day,  expressing  herself  rather  harshly  with  regard 
to  Rachel's  treatment  of  Rose,  Sarah,  who  was  present,  took 
the  matter  up  so  hotly  on  the  opposite  side  that  Dinah  could 
not  play  for  a  day  or  two  after  in  consequence  of  the  imprer- 
sion  her  sister's  arguments  had  made  on  her  face. 

All  these  little  bickerings,  however,  though  frequent,  did 
not  interfere  with  the  general  prosperity  of  the  French  com- 
pany. Every  one  but  the  Felixes  was  satisfied  with  the  pros- 
pect of  continued  success.  In  a  letter  from  one  of  the  mem- 
bers to  a  friend  in  Paris,  we  find  the  following  under  date  of 
October  29  th : 

"  We  are  playing  every  day.  I  am  obliged  to  own  I  fear 
we  shall  see  you  again  too  soon  ;  the  success  of  our  grande  tra- 
gedienne is  such  I  really  think  she  will  make  her  1,200,400 
francs  before  the  nine  months  are  elapsed." 

In  another,  dated  the  14th  of  November,  the  same  corre- 
spondent remarks  : 

"  They  say  in  Paris  we  make  no  money.     We  do  not  real- 

P 


338  MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL. 

ize  30,000  francs  a  night ;  but  Mademoiselle  Eachel  has  al- 
ready remitted  to  France  300,000  francs,  including  the  last 
receipts  of  the  London  performances.  She  has  to  come  to  the 
United  States  very  reluctimtly,  for,  as  she  says  herself,  she 
loves  for  the  first  time,  and  she  has  only  resigned  herself  to 
the  sacrifice  she  makes  in  leaving  France  for  the  sake  of  her 
famihj.  Let  us  hope  this  feeling  will  preponderate  over  the 
first,  and  that  we  shall  not  see  France  again  before  next 
June." 

The  state  of  Rachel's  health  precluding  her  from  reappear- 
ing before  the  Philadelphians,  and  the  physicians  having  ad- 
vised an  immediate  removal  to  a  warmer  climate,  the  company 
gave  four  performances  without  her.  English  plays  were  per- 
formed on  the  same  evenings  by  the  English  company,  but 
the  plan  met  with  so  little  favor  that  the  receipts  did  not 
amount  to  a  thousand  francs  a  night.  The  house  had  been 
rented  for  ten  performances,  and  had  to  be  paid  in  any  case. 
The  same  thing  occurred  with  regard  to  all  the  theatres  that 
had  been  engaged  beforehand,  and  the  amount  thus  spent  did 
not  average  less  than  20,000  francs  for  the  cities  of  the  United 
States,  and  50,000  francs  for  the  Havana  theatre. 

It  was  during  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  forced  seclusion  in 
Philadelphia  that  the  report  of  her  death,  with  the  most  cir- 
cumstantial account  of  her  last  moments,  went  the  rounds  of 
the  American  papers,  and  finally  traveled  to  Europe,  where 
it  was  republished  in  all  its  most  minute  details.  AYhen  the 
subject  of  this  wretched  joke  heard  of  it,  she  was  more  amused 
than  vexed. 

It  was  finally  decided  that  the  company  should  go  at  once 
to  Charleston.  Much  was  hoped  from  the  climate  there ;  but 
Rachel  herself  would  have  willingly  returned  immediately  to 
France.  With  her  this  was  now  the  ruling  passion,  and  it 
was  more  than  once  feared  she  would  start  by  the  next  steam- 
er, and  leave  her  brother  to  settle  his  affairs  as  he  chose. 

On  the  27th,  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  her  father,  and  her  sis- 
ter Sarah,  anticipating  by  a  few  hours  the  departure  of  the 
other  members  of  the  company,  left  Philadelphia.  The  in- 
valid traveled  by  shorter  stages,  so  that,  although  she  had 
preceded  her  companions,  she  arrived  after  them.     The  first 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  339 

performance,  consisting,  as  usual  when  she  did  not  play,  of 
comedies,  was  given  without  her  on  the  10th  of  December, 
and  was  not  very  numerously  attended.  It  was  every  where 
the  same,  the  attraction  was  Kachel ;  they  wished  to  see  the 
idol  Europe  had  so  long  worshiped,  not  a  French  play  they 
could  not  understand.  As  for  Kaphael,  convinced  that  the 
health  of  his  sister  would  now  be  completely  restored,  he  took 
this  opportunity  to  go  on  to  Havana  and  make  the  necessary 
arrangements  for  her  reception  there. 

There  was  in  Charleston  a  French  doctor  whose  skill  was 
highly  spoken  of;  he  was  sent  for  by  Mademoiselle  Rachel, 
and  his  only  advice  was  that  she  should  maintain  herself  in  a 
state  of  absolute  repose  for  six  months.  This  was  the  only 
thing  she  needed,  but  it  was  a  sine  qua  non  condition  of  health. 
This,  however,  the  patient  rejected  as  an  utter  impossibility. 
Her  cough  continued  very  troublesome,  but  her  strength  and 
general  health  being  slightly  improved,  she  was  bent  on  per- 
forming, and  her  reappearance  was  announced  to  take  place 
on  the  17th  instant,  in  the  part  oi  Adrienne  Lecouvreur. 

This  doctor  was  probably  the  first  person  Avho  really  saw 
the  danger  in  which  the  tragedienne  stood  even  then.  Her  ill- 
ness was  spoken  of  as  an  affection  of  the  larynx,  but  the  lungs 
were  attacked  already,  and  the  utmost  care  and  prudence  was 
required  ;  but  when  she  had  resolved  on  any  thing,  it  was  not 
easy  to  dissuade  her  from  it.  Play  she  would,  and  play  she 
did — for  the  last  time  in  America  the  bills  said — for  the  last 
time  on  earth  said  implacable  Destiny. 

M.  Chery,  who  played  in  the  drama  the  part  of  Michonnet, 
the  noble  old  stage-manager,  was  greatly  shocked  by  the 
change  he  saw  in  the  once-bi'illiant  Adrienne.  A  niece  of  his 
had  died  of  the  fatal  disease,  the  symptoms  of  which  he  clear- 
ly recognized  in  Eachel.  The  last  scene  of  the  play  contains 
passages  but  too  allusive  Xo  the  doom  she  has  since  so  cruelly 
realized. 

"  Ah,  quelles  souffrances      .      .      .     .      ce  n'est  plus  ma 

tete,  c'est  ma  poitrine  qui  est  brulante 

j'ai  la  comme  un  brazier  .  .  .  comme  un  feu  devorant 
qui  me  consume — 

"Ah!  le  mal  redouble Vous  qui  m'aimez 


340  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

tant,  sauvez  moi,  secourez  moi      .      .      .      .     je  ne  veux  pas 
mourir !      .     .     .     a  present  je  ne  veux  pas  mourir — 

"  Mon  Dieu !  exaucez-moi !  .  .  Mon  Dieu !  laissez  moi 
vivre  ....  quelque  jours  encore  .  .  .  .  Je  suis 
si  jeune  et  la  vie  s'ouvrait  pour  moi  si  belle! 

"  La  vie !  .  .  la  vie !  .  .  Vains  efforts !  .  .  .  . 
vaine  priere !  .  .  .  .  mes  jours  sont  comptes !  je  sens 
les  forces  et  I'existence  qui  m'echappent ! 

"  O  triomphes  du  theatre  !   mon  coeur  ne  battra  plus  de  vos 
ardentes  emotions !      .      .     Et  vous,  longues  etudes  d'un  art 
que  j'aimais  tant,  rien  ne  restera  de  vous  apres  moi 
Rien  ne  nous  survit  a  nous  autres     .       .      rien  que  le  souve- 
nir." 

Hearing  her  utter,  w^ith  all  the  eloquence  of  truth,  these 
heart-rending  phrases,  in  which  the  dying  actress  clings  so  de- 
spairingly to  the  life  ebbing  away  so  rapidly,  these  passionate 
regrets  of  the  triumphs  of  a  career  cut  short  so  early,  M.  Chery 
was  deeply  impressed  with  the  imminence  of  the  peril.  He 
could  not  divest  himself  of  the  terrible  thought  that  the  death 
she  was  imitating  was  really  in  her,  mocking  the  mocker ! 

*'  We  have  seen  Rachel  act  for  the  last  time,"  said  he  to  a 
friend. 

When  Raphael  went  to  Havana  on  the  4th,  he  wished  to 
take  Maurice  with  him.  Maurice  was  a  fine  young  man,  with 
whom  he  had  become  acquainted  on  board  the  Pacific,  when 
he  made  his  preparatory  trip  to  America.  '  Pleased  with  this 
youth's  manners  and  address,  Raphael  had  brought  him  back 
to  France,  and  he  now  filled  the  post  of  ticket-taker  and  in- 
terpreter in  the  company.  An  indisposition,  which  afterward 
proved  to  be  the  small-pox,  prevented  his  accompanying  the 
manager  to  Havana.      On  the  ninth  day  the  poor  fellow  died. 

Every  one  regretted  Maurice,  he  was  so  obliging  and  kind ; 
as  for  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  she  liked  him  very  much,  and  had 
promised  to  establish  him  in  some  sort  of  business  before  the 
end  of  the  conge.  His  death  was  therefore  carefully  conceal- 
ed from  her,  lest  it  should  cause  too  great  an  impression  in  her 
weak  state,  and  on  leaving  Charleston  she  wrote  to  him  who 
was  past  all  earthly  joys  and  sori'ows. 

The  letter  concluded  Avith  these  words : 


MEMOIRS    OF    KACUEL.  341 

"  Adieu,  my  dear  Maurice :  I  am  firmly  convinced  we  shall 
soon  meet  again." 

The  incident  is  related  by  Mademoiselle  Durey  in  the  cor- 
respondence already  referred  to. 

"  Her  father,  Mademoiselle  Briard,  and  I,  had  dined  with 
her  that  evening,  and  she  read  us  the  letter  she  was  writing 
to  comfort  poor  Maurice,  whom  we  have  to  leave  behind  us, 
she  said ;  the  last  lines  of  it  sent  a  chill  to  our  hearts.  We 
could  not  help  thinking  they  were  prophetic  of  the  writer's 
own  approaching  death." 

The  news  of  Eaphael's  progress  in  Havana  being  of  the 
most  exhilarating  nature,  the  company  embarked  on  the  19th 
instant  for  that  city.  The  Havaneros,  too  enthusiastic  with 
l^gard  to  the  fine  arts  not  to  be  electrified  at  the  idea  of  pos- 
sessing in  their  own  town  the  grande  iragklicnne,  had  sub- 
scribed en  masse.  There  could  not  be  a  doubt  that  the  great- 
est success  would  attend  her  if  she  performed ;  unfortunately, 
the  last  point  was  very  uncertain.  It  was  hoped,  however, 
that  when  she  had  recovered  from  the  fatigues  of  the  voyage 
she  would  improve. 

Every  physician  that  was  called  in  agreed  in  saying  that 
rest  Avas  indispensable.  If  climate  could  be  of  any  avail,  she 
certainly  had  the  benefit  of  the  mildest  winter  quarters  in  the 
world,  yet  she  did  not  seem  to  get  better,  and  the  period  of  her 
announced  appearance  was  indefinitely  adjourned. 

This  state  of  things  was  extremely  annoying  to  the  hapless 
manager,  who  saw  before  him  a  wretched  prospect :  the  idea 
of  having  to  refund  all  the  bright  doubloons  and  fair  dollars 
that  had  passed  into  his  possession  was  cruel  indeed. 

As  for  the  Havaneros,  their  impatience  soon  made  them 
irritable,  and  they  declared  their  utter  disbelief  in  the  alleged 
cause  of  delay.  That  Rachel  could  not  play  for  them,  when 
they  knew  she  had  played  a  few  days  previous  in  Charleston 
— the  thing  w^as  absurd,  and  all  the  blame  was  laid  to  caprice. 
By  way  of  revenge,  one  of  the  leading  papers,  "  La  Preusa," 
commenced  the  publication  of  M.  Mirecourt's  biography  of 
Rachel,  translated  into  Spanish,  to  the  infinite  vexation  of  the 
tragedienne. 

Nor  were  the  Havaneros  alone  to  deem  themselves  fooled. 


342  MEMOIRS   OP   RACHEL. 

Unfortunately,  Rachel  had  so  much  accustomed  all  who  knew 
her  to  feigned  indispositions  during  the  course  of  her  theatri- 
cal career,  whenever  it  suited  her  convenience,  that  now  the 
members  of  the  company  could  not  be  brought  to  believe  her 
as  ill  as  she  really  was.  Her  own  family  long  doubted  the 
serious  nature  of  her  illness.  Knowing  how  interested  her 
relatives  were  in  her  health  for  their  own  sakes,  she  had  some- 
times, in  France,  frightened  her  mother  by  complaining  of  just 
the  kind  of  symptoms  she  knew  to  be  those  of  consumption. 
Even  when  subsequently  she  was  sent  to  reside  in  Egypt,  few 
in  France  believed  her  ill.  She  paid  the  penalty  of  former 
deceptions. 

The  first  performance  was  to  have  been  given  on  the  25th  of 
December ;  it  was  postponed  to  the  Gth  of  January,  her  physi- 
cian having  peremptorily  required  the  delay.  The  tragedienne 
herself  was  exceedingly  disappointed ;  while  the  public  mur- 
mured and  her  companions  accused  her,  she  was  suffering 
acutely  in  mind  and  body.  She  removed  to  a  house  belong- 
ing to  M.  Marty,  the  manager  of  the  Havana  theatre,  and,  se- 
cluding herself  entirely,  refused  to  see  even  her  relatives,  on 
whom  she  laid  the  blame  of  having  brought  her  from  France 
on  this  injudicious  expedition.  She  declared  that  all  the  com- 
pany should  leave  for  Europe,  and  that  she  would  remain  be- 
hind, keeping  only  Mademoiselles  Briard  and  Durey,  and  her 
faithful  old  Eose.  It  was  her  intention,  as  soon  as  she  got 
better,  to  perform  detached  scenes,  in  which  she  meant  the 
two  actresses  should  assist  her.  She  would  have  none  of  her 
relatives  remain  with  her ;  they  must  all  go  back  to  France. 

This  misanthropic  fit  lasted  ten  days,  during  which  the  two 
ladies  mentioned  were  alone  admitted  to  see  her.  At  last  she 
allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  that  her  wisest  course  would 
be  to  return  to  Paris,  where  she  could  have  every  resource  of 
medical  art ;  it  was  agreed  that  every  one,  excepting  Rachel, 
was  to  sail  for  New  York  on  the  8th  of  January,  and  thence 
for  Europe  on  the  19th. 

When  this  decision  was  announced,  great  was  the  disap- 
pointment of  the  actors,  and  with  good  reason,  for,  from  the 
day  the  notice  was  given,  all  salaries  ceased.  Mademoiselles 
Durey  and  Briard,  acting  upon  the  idea  Mademoiselle  Rachel's 


MEMOIRS    OP    RACHEL.  343 

proposal  had  suggested,  resolved  to  remain  and  try  their  tor- 
tunes  there,  since  they  were  so  far  from  home.  Having  men- 
tioned this  to  Kachel,  she  highly  approved  of  their  plan,  and 
promised  her  support. 

"Go  to  New  York,"  said  she ;  ''  I  will  pay  your  expenses 
thither ;  my  bx'Other  must  give  you  the  amount  of  your  fare 
back  to  Europe ;  that  sum  will  enable  you  to  live  until  you 
can  carry  out  your  plan.  You  will  have  letters  of  credit  and 
recommendation  from  me  to  use  in  case  of  failure.  Write  me 
all  particulars ;  you  will  always  find  me  ready  to  assist  you ; 
you  are  the  only  disinterested  friends  I  have  met  with  in  my 
life."  She  cautioned  them  not  to  mention  to  their  compan- 
ions her  good  intentions. 

When  the  two  adventurous  ladies  went  to  Raphael  for  their 
passage-money  there  was  quite  a  commotion  among  the  other 
members  of  the  company. 

"  What  were  they  going  to  do  in  America  ?" 

"  Going  to  act,  of  course." 

The  example  was  contagious — all  would  stay  ;  the  next  day 
half  liad  repented ;  then  again  only  four  would  remain ;  on 
the  eve  of  sailing  there  were  but  the  two  proposers  of  the  scheme 
and  the  hair-dresser  still  firm  in  the  resolve ;  and  on  the  8th, 
when  the  vessel  left,  the  two  ladies  only  embarked,  steadfastly 
resisting  all  efforts  made  to  dissuade  them. 

The  real  motive  for  the  apparent  fickleness  of  the  other 
actors  was  the  opposition  their  plan  met  with  from  Raphael. 
When  the  Havaneros  found  they  were  not  to  hear  Rachel, 
they  expressed  a  wish  to  see  at  least  the  other  members  of  the 
company,  and  the  latter,  nothing  loth,  as  they  were  no  longer 
receiving  a  salary,  proposed  giving  a  sei'ies  of  performances 
without  the  co-operation  of  the  tragedienne.  The  manager, 
who  intended  returning  the  following  year  at  the  head  of  a 
company,  fearing  that  the  novelty  would  be  over  if  the  pres- 
ent scheme  took  effect,  refused  to  permit  of  it. 

At  first  thei-e  was  a  strong  tendency  to  resistance;  they 
would  remain  and  give  a  series  of  pieces  in  three  acts,  requir- 
ing seven  performers  at  most.  The  far-off  yellow  fever  at  last 
conquered,  and  they  thought  they  had  better  not  lose  their 
passage-money. 


344  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

tlachel  had  at  first  announced  her  resolution  to  remain. 
On  the  eve  of  the  day  her  comrades  were  to  leave  she  had 
changed  her  mind,  and  was  going  also.  The  next  day  she 
had  again  altered  it,  and  would  remain.  The  Clyde  finally 
sailed  without  her. 

The  ladies  already  mentioned  were  not  the  only  ones  who 
remained  in  America.  Sarah  Felix  left  in  the  Isabel  for 
Charleston  on  the  morning  the  Clyde  sailed  for  New  York ; 
she  did  not  return  to  Europe  for  some  time. 

Rachel  had  taken  it  into  her  head  she  would  return  to  Eu- 
rope in  the  same  vessel  that  brought  her  out,  the  ill-fated 
Pacific  that  was  then  expected  in  New  York,  but  which  was 
never  heard  of.  It  was  not  until  the  28  th  of  January,  1856, 
that  she  returned  to  France. 

Thus  ended  this  disastrous  trip — disastrous,  be  it  under- 
stood, with  regard  to  its  results  on  the  health  of  the  tragedienne, 
but  not,  all  things  considered,  in  a  pecuniary  view.  The  fact 
that  the  forty-two  performances  given  by  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel produced  a  sum  total  of  684,033  francs — her  share  alone 
amounting  to  298,000  francs — sufficiently  proves  that  the 
citizens  of  the  United  States  paid  their  tribute  to  dramatic 
art  with  more  liberality  than  any  other  nation,  and  that  they 
were  far  from  deserving  the  violent  diatribe  fulminated  against 
them  by  M.  Jules  Janin  in  his  feuilleton  entitled  "  Rachel  and 
Tragedy  in  the  United  States." 

However,  the  best  answer  the  Americans  can  make  is  to  be 
found  in  the  still  more  virulent  reproaches  the  same  critic  had 
addressed  to  his  own  countrymen  on  the  subject  of  classic  art 
on  a  former  occasion,  when  a  fit  of  spleen  or  of  gout  had 
soured  his  temper. 


MEMOIRS   OF    RACHEL.  345 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 

1856. 

Mcnlan. — Hotel  Rachel. — Household  Gods  put  up  at  Auction. — Value 
set  upon  Souvenirs. — lugeuious  Cicerones. — A  Mother's  Letter. — 
Dear-bought  Absence. — Washington's  Grandson. — A  new  Claim  on 
tlie  Theatre  Fran(;-ais. — Eetui'n  from  Egypt. — Sojourn  in  Montpel- 
lier. — Rachel's  Children. 

"We  have  now  before  us  the  melancholy  task  of  narrating 
the  last  two  years  of  a  life  hitherto  so  agitated,  so  brilHant, 
and  so  busy,  but  which  was  now  drawing  to  its  close  in  ob- 
scurity and  pain — two  years,  during  which  alternations  of  hope 
and  fear  incidental  to  the  deceptive  nature  of  her  disease,  and 
the  anxieties  of  a  mother  who  anticipates  the  day  Avhen  her 
children  will  be  left  to  the  care  and  protection  of  comparative 
strangers,  had  succeeded  to  the  intoxicating  triumphs  that  had 
hitherto  marked  her  days. 

From  the  day  she  set  foot  on  the  Continent  Kachel  had  but 
one  thought,  one  desire,  one  aim — life !  Her  time  was  spent 
in  vain  struggles  to  dislodge  the  enemy  that  had  gained  pos- 
session of  the  very  stronghold  of  vitality,  in  disputing  every 
breath  to  the  heavy  hand  that  was  oppressing  the  weak  chest ; 
one  day  lulled  into  security  by  some  favorable  symptom,  the 
next  feeling  herself  within  the  shadow  of  the  tomb,  yet,  in 
truth,  nearing  with  hourly-increased  rapidity  the  fatal  goal. 
For  twenty-two  months,  and  until  within  a  few  days — we 
might  say  hours — of  her  death,  she  continued  to  hope  against 
every  probability. 

And  yet  the  recollection  of  the  fate  of  Eebecca,  whose  ill- 
ness she  had  studied  in  all  its  phases,  might  well  have  dis- 
couraged her  from  the  first  moment  she  perceived  in  herself 
the  same  fatal  symptoms. 

She  spent  the  spring  of  this  year,  1856,  at  a  friend's  resi- 
dence in  Meulan,  but  on  the  approach  of  autumn,  in  pursu- 
ance of  the  advice  of  the  physicians,  she  resolved  to  pass  the 
winter  on  the  Nile. 

P2 


346  MEMOIRS   OF    RACHEL. 

It  was  reported  on  this  occasion  that  the  tragedienne,  dis- 
gusted with  the  enthusiasm  manifested  for  Madame  Ristori, 
never  intended  returning  to  France.  The  announcement  that 
her  town  residence  was  for  sale,  which  was  published  shortly 
after  her  departure,  seemed  to  confirm  this  resolution  of  per- 
petual exile.  A  few  words  on  this  hotel,  of  which  such  mar- 
vels were  related,  may  not  be  amiss  here.  On  the  announce- 
ment of  the  sale,  the  French  periodicals  were  seized  with  a 
sudden  phrensy  of  admiration,  grief,  enthusiasm,  and  despair. 
All  that  could  be  said  on  the  immense  loss  Paris  was  about 
to  sustain  in  the  person  of  the  owner,  and  on  the  immense 
value  of  the  dwelling  and  its  contents,  was  exhausted.  Those 
who  thus  took  on  themselves  the  rule  of  auctioneers,  to  puff 
and  cry  up  the  goods  and  chattels  of  the  tragedienne,  seemed 
to  wish  to  show  the  world  how  low  their  venal  adulation  could 
stoop.  But  the  result  was  only  partially  attained.  All  Paris 
hastened  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  excited  by  the  pompous  de- 
scriptions of  the  improvised  Robinses,  and  all  Paris  was  dis- 
appointed. The  domestic  curiosity-shop  was  pronounced  to 
be  such  a  collection  as  might  be  found  equaled  by  the  contents 
of  almost  any  well-appointed  private  dwelling,  and  the  temple 
itself  a  tasteless,  commonplace  affair,  more  remarkable  for 
defects  than  beauties. 

The  Hotel  Rachel,  situated  on  the  street  to  which  the 
echevia  Trudon  gave  his  not  very  euphonious  name,  can  not 
boast  of  the  prospect  its  windows  command.  On  one  side 
they  overlook  a  large  boarding-school,  on  the  other  the  garden 
of  M.  Mires.  The  present  building  was  erected  at  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel's  desire  by  Charles  Duval,  the  architect  who  has 
since  constructed  the  celebrated  Grande  Cafe  Parisien.  The 
defects  already  referred  to  were  inevitable  where  so  serious  a 
dithculty  as  that  of  want  of  space  existed  ;  he  was  desired  to 
place  an  elegant  and  comfortable  mansion  on  a  surface  of  a 
little  over  200  yards.  The  plans  had  been  approved  by 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  on  the  eve  of  one  of  her  conges,  and  the 
price  having  been  fixed  at  GO, 000  francs,  she  left  him  to  exe- 
cute them.  Her  tour  that  year  proving  veiy  productive,  she 
wrote  to  the  friend  to  whom  she  had  left  the  charge  of  over- 
looking progress,  and  authorized  any  additional  expense  the 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  347 

architect  might  deem  necessary ;  the  consequence  was,  the 
G0,000  francs  swelled  into  200,000  francs,  a  price  no  one 
would  think  of  giving  for  the  residence. 

The  house  that  had  originally  stood  on  this  site  was  of 
much  more  simple  aspect :  Mademoiselle  Kachel  had  occupied 
it  when  she  removed  from  No.  10  Rue  de  Rivoli,  celebrated 
as  having  been  the  residence  of  Mademoiselle  Mars  before  she 
occupied  her  own  hotel.  Hue  La  Rochefoucault.  The  predi- 
lection of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  for  this  spot  aro.'^e  from  her 
son  Alexandre  having  been  born  there ;  and  though  it  had 
only  been  intended  for  a  temporary  residence,  she  chose  to  re- 
main there  against  the  advice  of  her  friends,  who  suggested 
the  Champs  Elysees  as  far  preferable. 

The  present  building  consists  in  a  ground  floor,  an  entresol, 
a  first  floor,  and  attics,  and  the  whole  presents  a  singular  con- 
fusion of  all  the  diflferent  styles  in  architecture.  The  ground 
floor,  or  rez  de  chaussez,  is  divided  into  a  vestibule,  a  porter's 
lodge,  and  a  little  parlor,  where  admirers  not  admitted  to  see 
the  divinity  of  the  temple  inscribed  their  names.  The  archi- 
tect was  so  cramped  for  room  that  he  put  the  stables  in  the 
cellar.  Up  a  Gothic-arched  staircase,  as  dark  as  a  pocket, 
and  so  narrow  there  is  no  room  for  a  moderate-sized  crinoline, 
the  benighted  visitor  gropes  his  way  to  the  entresol,  and  here 
the  suite  of  rooms  commences. 

An  insignificant  ante-chamber  leads  into  a  dining-room,  or- 
namented and  furnished  in  very  questionable  taste.  The  in- 
tention was  that  the  Etruscan  should  have  prevailed,  but  it 
was  never  carried  out.  The  heterogeneous  articles  it  contain- 
ed were  severally  meant  to  denote  archaism  and  erudition,  but 
seemed  rather  astonished  at  being  brought  together.  A  wain- 
scot of  the  Middle  Ages  looked  down  upon  a  modern  carpet ; 
Greco-Roman  paintings  and  Renaissance  bahuts,  Etruscan 
vases  and  Parisian  crystals,  were  unceremoniously  associated. 
The  whole  was  lighted  up  by  an  odd-looking  lamp,  of  no  par- 
ticular age,  style,  or  beauty.  The  room  itself  was  a  sort  of 
narrow  passage,  with  so  low  a  ceiling  that  a  man  of  ordinary 
height  was  inclined  to  stoop  as  he  entered. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  ante-chamber  a  door  led  into  a  small 
salon  hung  in  chintz.      Among  other  things,  it  contained  a 


348  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

glass-doored  piece  of  furniture  filled  with  knick-knacks,  in 
which  large  sums  had  been  invested ;  every  rarity  had  been 
collected  in  this  toy-receptacle ;  Liliputian  statuettes,  diminu- 
tive Chinese  monsters,  and  costly  fancies  of  all  sorts  were 
there.  Yet,  with  the  exception  of  a  small  marble  bust  of  the 
First  Consul,  chiseled  by  Canova,  there  was  not  an  article  in 
the  room  that  indicated  a  taste  for  the  truly  beautiful. 

The  library  adjoining  the  salo7i  is,  as  might  be  expected,  the 
smallest  room  in  the  house.  The  oak  panels,  wainscot,  &c., 
are  finely  carved,  but  the  books,  splendidly  bound,  and  each  in 
its  place,  looking  as  if  it  had  never  been  read,  gave  the  room 
a  cold  aspect. 

On  the  first  floor  are  the  reception  rooms  and  bed-chambers. 

Two  muses — Melpomene  and  Thalia,  exiled  in  the  ante- 
chamber, seemed  to  protest  against  the  ungratefulness  of  the 
mistress  who  forgot  that  without  them  she  never  would  have 
had  a  salo7i.  Some  excuse  for  her  might  have  been  found  in 
the  little  artistic  beauty  of  these  representatives  of  tragedy 
and  comedy. 

The  Louis  XIV.  salon  was  gorgeous  and  costly,  and  that 
was  all  that  could  be  said  in  its  praise.  The  curtains  were 
of  embroidered  cashmere.  The  chairs  and  sofas,  richly  carved 
and  gilt,  were  covered  with  crimson  silk  damask.  Each  piece 
bore,  carved  in  a  shield,  the  initial  R. ;  though  there  wei-e  a 
number  of  pieces,  the  set  sold  for  only  2100  francs — not  over 
half  its  value.  The  panels  and  wainscot  were  highly  gilded. 
The  clock  and  six  candelabra,  thougli  master-pieces  of  Den- 
ieres,  only  brought  4500  francs.  Nothing  in  this  room,  so 
magnificently  furnished,  spoke  of  the  inner  life  of  the  woman 
— nothing  bore  the  impress  of  the  artiste ;  the  upholsterer  had 
Avorked  busily  and  lavishly,  and  the  furniture  was  such  as 
might  have  been  ordered  by  any  rich  stock-broker.  Nothing 
wore  the  stamp  of  an  exceptional  and  privileged  being.  There 
Avas  not  a  bronze,  not  a  marble,  not  a  picture  of  any  value. 

Between  the  salon  and  the  bed-rooms  was  the  so-called  Chi- 
nese boudoir,  a  closet  some  six  feet  square,  and  so  dark  that, 
until  the  eye  became  familiarized  w^ith  its  gloom,  it  could  dis- 
cern nothing.  The  scant  light  admitted  through  the  ceiling 
was  lessened  by  stained  glass  that  was  not  at  all  Chinese. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  349 

The  ornaments  of  this  dark  closet  were  four  or  five  Chinese 
figures  and  a  Pckin  lantern.  Among  these  grotesque  manda- 
rins was  placed — how  appropriately  the  reader  may  imagine — 
a  portrait  of  Kebecca,  a  lock  of  her  hair  in  a  black  frame,  and 
a  fine  marble  bust  of  Christ,  around  the  throat  of  which  was 
wound  the  rosary  that  has  already  been  mentioned. 

The  best  bed-chamber  was  also  magnificently  gilded.  The 
furniture  was  Louis  XV.  and  of  rosewood,  with  medallions  of 
Sevres.  The  superb  bed,  in  marqueterie,  adorned  with  gilt 
bronze  ornaments,  the  owner  had  slept  in  but  seldom.  It  was 
sold  for  1000  francs. 

In  one  of  the  rooms  hung  the  portraits  of  old  Madame  Fe- 
lix and  her  husband,  looking  as  though  they  were  making  an 
estimate  of  what  the  box  of  toys  would  bring. 

As  this  is  not  an  auctioneer's  catalogue,  we  shall  omit  the 
rooms  held  of  less  importance ;  one  of  the  latter,  however, 
would  have  been  well  worth  a  chapter  to  itself,  could  the  his- 
tory of  its  contents  be  faithfully  recorded.  This  was  Rose's 
room. 

In  the  vestibule  of  the  Theatre  Frangais  there  is  always  a 
bust  of  the  reigning  power.  When  a  revolution  brings  about 
a  change,  the  dethroned  majesty  is  hurried  up  into  the  attic, 
and  its  place  is  filled  by  the  image  of  the  new  idol.  The  old 
busts  are  not  disposed  of  or  destroyed,  they  are  merely  kept 
out  of  sight ;  there  is  no  knowing  what  may  happen,  and,  in 
case  of  a  restoration,  it  might  be  economical  and  handy  to  have 
the  old  image  all  ready. 

It  Avas  probably  with  this  example  before  her  eyes,  and  in 
accordance  with  the  same  principle,  that  the  busts  and  por- 
traits of  intimate  friends,  after  having  had  their  day  in  the 
most  conspicuous  and  honorable  place  in  the  tragedienne's  ele- 
gant rooms,  afterward  ascended  to  the  maid's  dormitory.  Rose 
had,  at  last,  quite  a  gallery,  of  which  the  history  might  have 
afforded  us  a  glance  into  the  hidden  recesses  of  the  feminine 
heart. 

The  hotel  was  to  have  been  sold  on  the  25th  of  November, 
1856,  but,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  M.  Emile  de  Girardin,  to 
whom  Rachel  had  delegated  her  powers,  countermanded  it. 
The  numerous  puffs  had  not  had  the  success  expected,  and  as 


350  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

the  little  excitement  manifested  by  the  public  made  it  proba- 
ble no  very  liberal  offers  would  be  made,  the  speculation  was 
given  up  for  the  time.  A  sale  of  a  portion  of  the  furniture 
took  place  in  July,  1857,  at  very  low  prices.  The  remainder 
of  the  fui-niture  was  removed  to  the  apartment  Mademoiselle 
Eachel  had  taken,  Place  Royale. 

Among  the  articles  sold  for  much  less  than  their  real  value 
were  some  fine  paintings.  An  authentic  Boucher  {La  Toilette) 
went  for  200  francs.  "L'Ecu  de  France,"  an  original  of  Eu- 
gene Isabey,  brought  but  660  francs.  The  "  Trial  of  Mary 
Stuart,"  a  fine  composition  by*  Achille  Deveria,  was  given  for 
705  francs.  Two  real  Diaz,  presented  by  M.  Arsene  Hous- 
saye  to  the  trariklienne,  were  actually  allowed  to  go  for  360 
francs.  Two  fine  paintings,  representing  "  Music  and  Com- 
edy," by  Natlier,  only  brought  600  francs. 

A  "Virgin  and  Child,"  in  water-colors,  after  Van  Dyck, 
by  Madame  O'Connell,  that  had  cost  M.  le  Comte  Leopold 
Lehon  800  francs,  sold  for  only  350  francs ;  "  Le  Triomphe 
de  Mademoiselle  Duclos,"  by  Rigaud,  150  francs  only. 

Among  the  works  of  art  was  an  exquisite  portrait  of  Adri- 
enne  Lecouvreur,  in  Beauvais  tapestry,  a  most  excellent  imi- 
tation of  a  fine  painting,  and  which  had  been  a  great  favorite 
with  the  tragedienne,  yet  she  allowed  of  its  being  sold  for  150 
francs.  Certainly  the  possessor  of  millions  could  know  noth- 
ing of  that  peremptory  need  that  brings  under  the  hammer  the 
most  valued  articles,  yet  these  fine  pictures,  all  presents  from 
those  who  were  or  had  been  friends,  were  allowed  to  go  for 
prices  infinitely  below  their  value,  as  though  the  owner  found 
herself  reduced  to  the  utmost  penury. 

When  the  hotel  of  the  Rue  Trudon  was  built,  some  ten 
years  ago,  the  next  thing  was  to  furnish  it  suitably.  Her- 
mione  said  to  her  friends,  "  Contribute  something  to  tlie  adorn- 
ing of  my  little  hotel — a  trifle,  a  souvenir.''''  Every  one  hast- 
ened to  prove  his  taste  or  his  liberality  ;  one  sent  a  china  vase, 
another  a  statuette,  another  a  painting,  &c.,  &c. 

Had  these  friends  chosen,  they  might  have  bought  back 
their  valued  and  valuable  souvenirs  at  public  auction.  These 
various  contributions  were  estimated  at  300,000  francs. 

When  the  hotel  was  first  announced  for  sale,  several  hund- 


MEMOIRS   OF    KACHEL.  351 

reels  of  persons  daily  visited  it.  Those  who  manifested  the 
greatest  curiosity  to  see  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  muse's  pri- 
vate dwelling  were  foreigners,  who  were  not  aware  that  tickets 
to  view  were  to  be  had  on  application  to  M.  Lemonnyer,  the 
notary.  Some  ingenious  speculator,  having  procured  a  num- 
ber of  these  tickets,  repaired  to  the  hotels  most  frequented  by 
strangers,  and  offered  them  at  prices  varying  according  to  the 
dupe,  from  2  francs  to  20  francs,  at  the  same  time  volunteer- 
ing his  services  as  cicerone.  An  American  was  firmly  con- 
vinced he  had  seen  the  portraits  of  Talma  and  INIademoiselle 
Mars,  painted  by  David,  the  likeness  of  Father  and  Mother 
Felix  having  been  dubbed  with  these  illustrious  names  by  his 
guide.  Another  enthusiastic  gentleman  offered  an  additional 
louis  to  be  allowed  a  sight  of  the  historical  guitar. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel  had  left  France  on  her  way  to  Egypt 
on  the  2d  of  October.  The  following  letter  to  her  son,  dated 
from  Cairo,  the  18th  of  the  same  month,  is  interesting,  not 
only  from  the  maternal  feeling  that  dictated  it,  but  also  from 
the  particulars  it  contains. 

"  Dear  little  Oxe, — My  health  seems  improving,  for  I 
have  already  acquired  some  strength,  and  my  appetite  is  tol- 
erably good.  I  am  settled  as  comfortably  here  as  it  is  possi- 
ble to  be  in  Egypt.  There  are  in  Cairo  two  hotels,  and  I  am 
in  the  best.  The  bed-room,  which  has  a  southern  aspect,  is 
as  large  as  one  of  your  school  dortoirs,  with  a  ceiling  propor- 
tionally high,  so  that,  although  it  is  very  warm  here,  there  is 
no  lack  of  air.  The  table  is  veiy  good.  The  cook,  who  is  a 
Frenchwoman,  in  consideration  of  our  being  countrywomen, 
gets  up  little  extra-nice  dishes  for  us.  I  have  already  taken 
short  walks  in  the  town  and  in  the  environs  ;  it  is  a  very  rich, 
curious,  and  interesting  country.  I  hope  you  will  some  day 
visit  it,  and  that  God  will  permit  me  to  be  your  cicerone — that 
is,  your  faithful  guide. 

"More  than  ever  do  I  congratulate  myself  of  being  a  g?--?-- 
r-rande  tragedienne.  Every  one  we  meet  is  ready  to  oblige,  to 
serve,  and  to  procure  us  amusements.  Ever  since  I  left  Mar- 
seilles I  have  everywhere  met  with  the  most  maternal  hos- 
pitality. 


352  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

"  Your  aunt*  is  very  well :  she  laughs,  she  sings,  she  would 
dance  to  make  me  smile,  and  that  is  not  always  easy,  for  I 
am  often  thinking  that  I  am  far  from  my  dear  little  ones.  It 
is  true  that  I  find  some  comfort  in  the  thought  that  I  am  a 
voluntary  exile  for  a  few  months,  in  order  that  I  may  return 
to  my  children  strong  and  healthy,  to  leave  them  no  more. 

"  I  have  just  made  an  effort  to  write  you  so  long  a  letter, 
for  writing  fiitigues  and  agitates  me — two  things  strictly  pro- 
hibited by  the  physicians.  I  can,  therefore,  write  to  no  one 
else  by  this  mail. 

"  I  hope  you  will  prove  your  gratitude  by  writing  me  a 
long  letter.  Tell  me  all  your  thoughts,  and  all  the  news,  if 
you  know  of  any,  for  we  can  get  no  papers  here. 

"  I  shall  write  to  my  dear  parents  by  the  next  boat.  Thei'e 
was  an  earthquake  in  Alexandria  while  we  were  there.  There 
was  no  harm  done,  but  it  made  a  great  impression  upon  me. 
It  is  a  sublime  horror.  In  Cairo  there  were  several  acci- 
dents. I  must  now  bid  you  good-by,  inclosing  a  thousand 
kisses." 

This  letter  is  charming  from  its  simplicity ;  it  was  evidently 
written  by  the  mother  herself,  and  bears  no  resemblance  to 
those  written  for  her  by  her  too  numerous  secretaries. 

We  have  also  in  the  above  epistle  a  very  amiable  and  doubt- 
less correct  picture  of  Sarah's  endeavors  to  cheer  her  invalid 
sister.  Malicious  telltales  have  asserted  that  this  entente  cor- 
diale  did  not  last  long,  and  that  the  absence  of  this  kind,  laugh- 
in"-,  sino'ing;  sister  soon  became  the  most  ardent  wish  of  the 
tragedienne.  Apropos  of  this,  the  following  little  anecdote  went 
the  rounds.  We  give  it  as  we  find  it  in  one  of  the  periodicals 
of  that  day,  without  at  all  warranting  its  authenticity : 

"  Sad  news  from  our  great  tragedienne  :  she  suffers  from  two 
evils — bronchitis  and  her  sister  Sarah.  Deeming  the  imme- 
diate removal  of  the  greater  evil  might  ameliorate  her  condi- 
tion, and  afford  her  a  better  chance  for  future  relief  from  both, 
she  expressed  a  wish  that  Mademoiselle  Sarah  would  go  to 
Paris  in  order  to  make  some  purchases  there.  Her  motive 
was  understood. 

♦  Mademoiselle  Sarah. 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  353 

" '  I'll  ne'er  forsake  thee,'  was  the  reply  of  the  devoted  ty- 
rant, 'unless  I  get  20,000  francs  to  comfort  me  under  the  af- 
fliction the  separation  will  cause  me.' 

"  Kachel  thought  the  grief  might  be  assuaged  with  less: 
Sarah  Avas  inflexible. 

"  '  Haven't  I  forsaken  America — refused  a  splendid  engage- 
ment? Was  I  not  to  have  married  a  youth,  handsome, 
wealthy,  of  noble  birth,  a  descendant  of  Washington,  who  was 
to  have  acted  the  Crisjnus  at  the  Odeon  ?  All  these  have  I 
slighted  for  thy  sake ;  sure  20,000  francs  were  but  poor  com- 
pensation for  the  sacrifice  of  such  advantages  !' 

"'You're  killing  me,'  cried  poor  Rachel;  'take  15,000 
francs.' 

"  '  20,000  francs  or  dea-a-a-ath,'  sternly  replies  Sarah.  The 
result  is  not  yet  known." 

Sarah's  temper  was  too  irritable  to  qualify  her  for  a  com- 
panion to  an  invalid,  and  she  was  not  perhaps  able  to  keep 
that  curb  upon  it  long  which  immediate  danger  had  rendered 
necessary.  Symptoms  of  returning  health  in  one  sister  brought 
symptoms  of  returning  violence  in  the  other. 

Numerous  were  the  anecdotes  for  which  the  well-known 
peculiarities  of  Rachel's  elder  sister  afforded  some  foundation. 
It  is  not  likely  that  the  pui'veyors  of  the  daily  press  were  very 
scrupulous  as  to  the  veracity  of  the  sayings  and  doings  they 
recorded  of  Mademoiselle  Sarah.  They  probably  often  made 
their  readers  merry  at  her  expense  with  stories  entii-ely  of 
their  own  invention.  Pier  short  sojourn  in  America  after  the 
departure  of  the  other  members  of  the  company  furnished 
matter  for  innumerable  absurd  reports,  among  which  that  of 
the  approaching  nuptials  with  the  descendant  of  Washington 
was  not  the  least  laughable,  being,  moreover,  firmly  believed 
by  many  envious  of  the  bride's  good  luck. 

Though  apparently  exclusively  preoccupied  with  the  care 
of  her  health,  she  could  not  quite  forget  that  of  her  pecuniary 
interests.  She  remembered  that  as  a  societaire  of  the  Theatre 
Fran9ais  she  was  entitled  to  her  full  salary  during  her  illness 
just  as  much  as  when  in  active  service,  and  she  wrote  to  pre- 
fer her  claim.  The  demand  was  preposterous,  and,  had  it 
been  put  forward  by  any  one  else,  would  have  been  laughed 


354  ^lEMOIRS    OF   RACHEL. 

ai.  But  the  committee  was  accustomed  to  the  exactions  of 
this  despotic  queen ;  they  knew,  moreover,  that  their  own  de- 
liberation was  a  mere  matter  of  form.  She  placed  no  depend- 
ence on  the  issue  if  left  to  their  decision  :  she  had  more  faith 
iu  her  intiuence  in  higher  quarters  than  >vith  the  comrades 
whom  the  grant  of  her  claim  would  despoil  of  their  earnings 
to  defray  her  expenses  while  idle. 

The  salary  of  a  societaire  amounted  to  12,000  francs  yearly. 
Mademoiselle  Eachel  received  42.000  fi-ancs  for  nine  months, 
during  which,  indeed,  she  seldom  averaged  over  three  of  actual 
service,  and  this  large  sum  was  allotted  her  in  consideration 
of  the  superiority  of  her  talent  and  of  its  favorable  influence 
on  the  receipts  of  the  house.  This  influence,  however,  could 
not  be  alleged  to  be  exercised  during  her  sojourn  in  her  conge 
on  the  Nile. 

The  plea  of  past  services  was  also  subject  to  discussion. 
She  had  undoubtedly  done  good  service  to  the  cause  of  art,  but 
that  she  had,  as  she  asserted,  made  the  fortune  of  the  theatre, 
was  contradicted  by  the  unanswerable  eloquence  of  figures. 
The  ten  performances  given  by  her  in  one  month  produced 
some  40,000  francs,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  she  entailed  num- 
berless expenses  and  disadvantages  on  the  theatre.  The  ex- 
clusive attention  of  the  public  being  wholly  engrossed  by  the 
great  artiste,  reacted  woefuUy  on  the  nights  she  did  not  play; 
everv  thing  that  was  not  connected  with  her  was  looked  upon 
with  little  favor ;  a  natural  result  of  this  was  the  discourage- 
ment of  every  other  representative  of  tragic  art ;  the  confu- 
sion and  dissensions  her  despotism  occasioned  in  the  manage- 
ment, her  capricious  entrees  and  sorties ;  her  brother,  her  sis- 
ters, forced  on  the  committee ;  her  lawsuits,  her  fi-ee  boxes 
and  seats,  her  dressing-room,  her  costumes,  were  heav}'  charges 
to  be  deducted  from  the  benefits,  and  somewhat  counterbal- 
anced the  receipts  her  presence  brought  into  the  treasury. 

Mademoiselle  Eachel  returned  to  France  at  the  end  of  May, 

1857. 

On  board  the  steamer  that  was  bringing  her  from  Egypt 
there  was  a  missionary  bishop,  Monseigneur  Guillamum,  with 
whom  she  frequently  conversed.  Rachel  had  at  all  times  the 
most  fascinating,  winning  manners,  and  now,  to  a  man  of  that 


>rEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  355 

sacred  chai'acter,  the  shadow  of  death  within  which  he  saw 
her  stand  must  ha%-e  invested  her  with  a  deeper  interest. 

When  the  boat  stopped  at  Malta,  the  prelate  took  the  op- 
portunity to  say  mass  in  the  Church  of  St.  .John  in  behalf  of 
her  who  was  on  the  brink  of  eternity.  The  object  of  his  so- 
licitude, having  known  of  his  pious  intention,  repaired  to  the 
church  and  heard  him  officiate. 

In  his  conversations  the  prelate  anxiously  exhorted  her  to 
alter  her  course,  and,  instead  of  re-entering  France,  to  proceed 
to  Rome  and  be  baptized  by  the  Holy  leather.  To  this  she 
objected  on  the  score  of  not  being  prepared  to  become  a  con- 
vert ;  '•  besides,"  said  she,  after  a  few  moments'  hesitation, 
'•'  people  would  say  I  was  playing  a  part,  and  that  it  was  done 
for  effect ;  I  can  not." 

She  spent  a  part  of  the  summer  in  the  environs  of  Montpel- 
lier.  While  there  it  was  probable  that  her  thoughts  recurred 
more  than  once  to  the  poor  recluse  whom  she  had  visited  in 
the  prison  of  that  city  ten  years  before,  and  whose  impending 
fate  she  had  then  so  eloquently  lamented.  She,  too,  the  once 
gay  and  brilliant  favoiite  of  Fortune,  whom  the  sad,  proud 
captive  had  probably  then  gazed  upon  with  envy  as  well  as 
admiration,  was  herself  dying  of  thaf  dreadful  disease  that  had 
inspired  her  with  such  horror  and  commiseration,  and  to 
which  she  would  have  deemed  sudden  death  by  a  '-'ball  in 
the  chest  or  a  tile  on  the  head  some  windy  day  far  prefera- 
ble I"  She  too  was  hastening  to  that  unknown  land  whither 
the  weary,  worn,  and  vexed  spirit  of  her  she  had  so  pitied, 
and  the  young,  buoyant,  and  light-hearted  sister  she  had  so 
loved,  had  preceded  her. 

Her  son  Alexandre  being  on  the  point  of  going  -with  his  tu- 
tor to  Geneva,  where  he  was  to  finish  his  studies,  Rachel  hast- 
ened back  to  Paris  on  the  night  of  the  23d  of  June.  Such 
was  her  anxiety  to  embrace  her  child,  that,  weak  and  ill  as 
she  was,  she  would  not  consent  to  stop  on  the  way,  but  came 
directly  through. 

Of  Rachel's  two  boys,  the  eldest,  Alexandre,  who  has  been 
acknowledged  by  his  father,  a  well-kno^^Ti  diplomate,  was  a 
very  handsome  child  when  quite  young.  But,  as  he  grew  up, 
this  very  beauty,  derived  from  his  close  resemblance  to  his 


356  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 


mother,  became  less  suitable  to  his  sex.  The  features  and 
figure  are  so  delicate,  small,  and  feminine,  that  they  lack 
character,  and  AviU  give  an  insignificant  appearance  to  the 
man. 

Gabriel,  the  youngest  child,  was,  -when  a  baby,  as  plain  as 
his  brother  was  handsome,  and  for  some  little  while  consider- 
ed an  unwelcome  addition  to  the  family.  Some  one  asking 
Eachel  what  she  thought  the  second  son  would  be,  "  His 
brother's  coachman,"  was  the  reply. 

This  apparently  unfeeling  remark  was  probably  made  rather 
because  she  would  not  lose  the  opportunity  of  saying  what  she 
considered  a  smart  thing,  than  because  she  thought  it,  as  she 
afterward  proved  herself  a  kind  mother  to  both  her  children. 

She  had  allowed  the  elder  child  to  be  the  godfather  of  the 
younger,  and  this  added  link  between  the  boys  has  given  to 
the  affection  of  Alexandre  a  character  of  paternal  solicitude, 
that  manifests  itself  in  the  most  charming  and  graceful  man- 
ner on  every  occasion  where  his  little  brother  seems  to  require 
his  assistance  or  protection.  He  considers  himself  his  broth- 
er's guardian.  Unfortunately,  the  elder  has  inherited  his 
mother's  delicacy  of  constitution  as  well  as  her  features. 

Gabriel,  who  at  first  \^s  clumsy  in  shape,  and  whose  heavy 
features  promised  no  beauty,  is  becoming  a  very  good-looking 
boy ;  years  are  developing  a  fine  athletic  form,  handsome 
limbs,  and  an  intelligent  countenance. 

The  children  Avere,  on  account  of  the  frequent  absence  of 
the  mother,  under  the  exclusive  care  and  surveillance  of  their 
grandmother  until  the  elder  was  taken  charge  of  by  his  father. 
Both  were  placed  at  the  best  schools,  and  no  expense  was 
spared  in  their  education.  But  in  other  respects  the  greatest 
economy  was  observed ;  in  all  that  concerned  their  dress,  par- 
simony was  carried  to  the  utmost  limits.  Every  article,  by 
mending,  patching,  cleaning,  turning,  and  dyeing,  was  made 
to  last  to  the  farthest  verge  of  respectability.  In  a  letter 
written  to  his  mother,  who  was  then  in  America,  the  elder 
lad  said,  "For  all  I  keep  telling  gi-andmamma  over  and  over 
again  that  you  are  to  bring  home  1,200,000  francs,  she  won't 
give  me  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  and  I  have  to  wear  the  same 
shabby  one." 


MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL.  357 

It  appears  that  the  mother  granted  the  wish,  for  some  little 
while  after,  and  at  the  time  her  cold  fastened  upon  her,  she 
jestingly  alluded  to  the  above  passage  in  one  of  her  own  let- 
ters to  the  child :  "  You  see,  my  dear,  how  imprudent  it  was 
in  me  to  go  to  the  expense  of  250  francs  for  your  new  suit.  I 
have  been  taken  ill,  and  now  good-by  to  the  1,200,000  francs." 

The  elder  lad  was  old  enough  to  understand  the  dangerous 
nature  of  his  mother's  illness,  and  manifested  the  most  anxious 
solicitude  to  have  correct  information  on  the  subject  of  her 
health. 

Fearing  the  truth  might  be  kept  from  him  by  his  grand- 
mother and  aunts — he  was  probably  aware  of  their  system  of 
negation  on  that  subject — he  would  write  to  the  faithful  Rose, 
adjuring  her  to  tell  him  exactly  how  his  dear  mamma  was. 

The  love  of  change  that  had  actuated  her  throughout  her 
life  caused  her  to  choose  a  new  residence  in  Paris  when  she 
returned  from  Egypt,  although  her  hotel,  Rue  Trudon,  and  its 
contents  were  yet  unsold.  Her  new  apartments.  No.  9  Place 
Roj^al,  were  much  more  spacious  than  those  of  her  own  hotel, 
and  she  half-jestingly,  half-sadly  remarked  that "  there  would 
be  plenty  of  room  for  those  who  chose  to  attend  her  funeral." 
Her  mournful  prevision  was  not  justified  by  the  event ;  for, 
with  the  exception  of  the  palaces  and  public  edifices,  no  build- 
ing in  Paris  would  have  been  spacious  enough  for  the  crowd 
that  followed  her  remains  to  their  last  resting-place. 

The  hotel  in  the  Place  Royal  had  once  pertained  to  the 
ancient  family  of  Nicolai,  and  had  been  inhabited  by  eminent 
magistrates  and  venerable  chancellors,  one  of  whom  was  the 
President  Nicolai,  the  tutor  of  Voltaire.  This  had  also  been 
the  last  residence  in  Paris  of  the  poet  Victor  Hugo. 


358'  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 


CHAPTER  XXXni, 

1857. 

Concealment  of  Illness. — Bulletins  of  Health  read  on  the  Stage. — Mole. 
— Nicolet's  Monkey-Actors. — Departure  for  Cannet. — Melancholy 
Pilgrimage. — Cannes. — Villa  at  Cannet. — The  Dream. — Variations 
in  Health  and  Spirits. — Farandoles. — Sister  Sarah. — Raphael  and 
the  Cross. — Last  Autograph. — Hebrew  Prayer. — Death. — Funeral. 

The  state  of  the  tragedienne^ s  health  prohibiting  her  remain- 
ing in  Paris  during  the  winter,  Cannet  was  the  residence  se- 
lected by  her  medical  advisers. 

A  singular  circumstance  connected  with  the  illness  of  Ra- 
chel was  the  doubt  so  long  entertained  by  the  public  as  to  its 
dangerous  nature.  This  proceeded  not  only  from  a  long  ex- 
perience of  her  propensity  to  feign  illness,  but  also  from  the 
care  with  which  her  relatives  concealed  the  real  state  of  her 
health.  When  her  indispositions  were  for  her  own  conven- 
ience, those  around  her  proclaimed  them ;  when  there  was 
real  cause  for  alarm,  they  were  no  less  anxious  to  conceal  it. 
Rachel's  influence  was  indispensable  to  her  numerous  hangers- 
on  ;  so  long  as  she  lived,  there  was  a  prestige  attached  to  all 
belonging  to  her,  and  that  prestige  was  increased  or  lessened 
as  the  danger  of  losing  her  became  more  or  less  imminent. 

A  witty  journaliste,  referring  to  the  position  of  Rachel  in 
her  own  family,  and  to  the  degree  of  dramatic  talent  possessed 
by  some  of  the  other  members  of  it,  said  he  was  reminded  of 
a  dilettanti  hahitue  of  the  Opera,  who,  during  the  overture  of 
"  Robert  le  Diable,"  beat  the  time  very  assiduously.  His 
neighbor  in  the  next  stall,  seeing  this  philharmonic  enthusiasm, 
and  deeming  that  he  might  possibly  have  the  honor  of  touch- 
ing the  elbow  of  Meyerbeer  himself,  at  last  ventured  to  say, 
"You  are  a  musician,  sir?" 

"  Not  exactly ;  but  I  have  a  brother  who  owns  a  musical 
snuff-box!"  In  the  Felix  family,  added  the  narrator.  Made- 
moiselle Rachel  was  the  owner  of  the  musical  snuff'-box,  and 
its  name  was  Fm  Tragedie. 


MEMOIKS    OF    RACHEL.  359 

Rachel  herself  did  not  scruple  to  jest  on  the  manner  in 
which  she  was  exploitce  for  the  general  benefit  of  her  kith  and 
kin,  and  most  willingly  permitted  of  it.  Some  one  remon- 
strating witli  her  on  the  occasion  of  her  American  trip,  she 
laughingly  replied,  "  Kaphael  is  the  wandering  Jew,  and  I 
am  his  five  sons." 

Madame  Felix,  accompanied  by  a  young  relative,  was  met 
on  the  Boulevards  within  a  day  or  two  of  her  daughter's  death 
by  a  person  who  inquired  how  the  tragedienne  was.  The  young 
relative  was  thoughtlessly  replying  that  the  last  news  was 
very  bad,  and  that  little  hope  remained,  when  the  elder  lady, 
hastily  interrupting  her,  said  it  w^as  quite  a  mistake ;  Eachel 
was  much  better ! 

During  the  last  century,  when  any  favorite  of  the  theatre- 
going  public  was  ill,  it  was  customary  for  one  of  his  or  her 
comrades  to  give  the  bulletin  of  the  absent  one's  health  to  the 
audience  every  evening.  On  such  occasions  the  spectators 
frequently  testified  an  interest  highly  flattering  to  its  object. 
Sometimes,  however,  these  tokens  of  sympathy  were  so  ex- 
aggerated that  they  excited  the  ridicule  of  less  passionate  ad- 
mirers. Thus,  when  Mole',  the  celebrated  comedian,  was  kept 
from  the  stage  by  a  severe  and  protracted  illness,  the  report 
of  his  physician,  which  w^as  read  nightly,  drew  from  the  audi- 
ence, and  more  especially  from  the  feminine  portion  of  it,  the 
most  absurd  demonstrations  of  feeling. 

That  thei'e  is  but  a  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  is 
most  frequently  exemplified  in  France,  where  criticism  is  ever 
on  the  alert,  and  humor  always  in  search  of  a  subject.  Nic- 
olet,  the  manager  of  the  little  house  now*  known  as  the  The'atre 
de  la  Gaiete,  parodied  the  scenes  of  silly  enthusiasm  that  took 
place  at  the  Theatre  Fran(;^ais  by  giving  nightly  bulletins  of  the 
health  of  one  of  his  best  actors,  a  favorite  monkey  then  ill. 

The  public  of  the  present  day  carry  to  such  an  extreme  the 
love  of  fun  and  the  propensity  to  criticism,  that  it  Avas  quite 
as  well,  perhaps,  tliat  no  attempt  was  made  to  revive  the  old 
custom  on  the  occasion  of  the  tragedienne's  illness. 

The  15th  of  September  was  the  day  fixed  for  her  departure. 
There  are  in  our  lives  solemn  and  decisive  moments,  when  the 
veil  that  conceals  futurity  is  drawn  aside,  and  our  souls  are 


360  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

permitted  a  glance  into  the  arcana  of  fate.  We  are  filled  with 
vague  instincts,  with  secret  aspirations  which  we  can  not  ac- 
count for  then,  but  of  which  the  mystery  is  solved  by  subse- 
quent events.  At  times,  for  an  absence  we  design  shall  be  but 
temporary  only,  we  dwell  on  the  farewell  as  though  we  were 
conscious  the  parting  was  to  be  eternal ;  at  others  we  are  tor- 
mented by  an  irresistible  longing  to  revisit  places  toward  which 
some  superhuman  power  impels  us.  Eaehel  was  under  the 
influence  of  some  such  occult  and  inexplicable  inspiration 
during  the  night  that  preceded  her  departure  for  the  south  of 
France.  Her  sleep  was  of  short  duration ;  and  although 
nothing  required  she  should  rise  early,  tormented  by  an  anx- 
ious wish  to  see  once  more  a  spot  associated  with  the  most 
memorable  events  of  her  life,  she  was  dressed  long  before  the 
dawning  of  the  tardy  autumnal  day.  To  those  who  remon- 
strated on  her  early  rising,  she  peremptorily  replied  she  had  a 
pilgrimage  to  perform  before  she  left  Paris,  and  that  her  fam- 
ily could  meet  and  take  leave  of  her  at  the  station. 

From  her  residence  in  the  Place  Eoyale,  which  she  was 
never  to  re-enter  alive,  she  drove,  passing  by  the  Gymnase, 
to  the  Theatre  Fran^ais,  and,  ordering  the  can-iage  to  stop 
before  it,  remained  long  gazing  at  the  house  that  had  been 
the  scene  of  her  first  debiits  and  of  fifteen  of  the  most  brilliant 
years  of  her  career.  God  only  knows  what  her  reflections 
were,  as,  mute  and  absorbed  in  thought,  she  contemplated  the 
doors  which  she  had  entered  poor,  timid,  and  unknown,  to 
leave  rich,  proud,  and  celebrated.  When  first  she  had  crossed 
yon  threshold  she  possessed  none  of  Fortune's  gifts,  but  she 
was  full  of  hope — of  life ;  now  she  was  rich  in  all  the  world 
prizes,  but  her  cup  of  life  was  nearly  empty,  and,  for  her  hopes, 
they  were  faint  indeed. 

A  friend  at  last  roused  her  from  the  meditations  in  which, 
regardless  of  the  hour,  she  was  indulging,  and  hurried  her  oflP. 
She  leaned  her  head  out  of  the  window  as  long  as  the  build- 
ins  remained  in  sijrht.  When  she  reached  the  station  she 
spoke  but  little,  bidding,  with  a  sad  smile  only,  what  proved 
to  many  of  the  friends  assembled  there  a  last  adieu.  She  was 
carried  in  a  chair  from  the  station  to  the  railway  carriage, 
for  she  was  no  longer  able  to  walk. 


MEMOIRS    01"    KACHEL.  361 

Cannes,  a  small  town  of  the  Department  du  Ver,  is,  or 
rather  should  be,  the  Nice  of  France,  If  England  owned  a 
spot  so  prodigally  endowed  with  all  the  advantages  Nature 
can  bestow,  a  beautiful  town  would  long  ago  have  been  built 
on  those  smiling  margins. 

C'annes,  situated  in  a  recess  of  one  of  the  most  charming 
bays  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  sheltered  by  the  surrounding 
highlands,  is  a  sort  of  natural  conservatory  where  reigns  a 
perpetual  spring,  and  where  the  most  delicate  valetudinarians 
find,  during  the  severest  winters,  a  sky  ever  clear  and  mild,  a 
balmy  atmosphere,  and  the  perpetual  emanations  of  flower- 
covered  fields.  Flowers  are  cultivated .  in  that  district  as 
grain  and  fodder  are  elsewhere,  and  fields  of  violets,  of  roses, 
of  heliotropes,  instead  of  wheat,  oats,  and  clover,  supply  a 
large  proportion  of  the  perfumery  used  in  both  hemispheres. 
The  Isles  of  St.  Margueritte,  which  it  might  not  be  impossible 
to  unite  with  each  other  by  means  of  a  dike,  close  the  entrance 
to  the  Bay  of  Cannes,  and  protect  it  against  storms.  The 
railway  of  Toulon  to  Nice,  which  touches  at  Cannes,  and 
makes  it  easy  of  access,  vnW,  in  all  probability,  give  to  this 
privileged  town  the  development  to  which  it  is  in  so  many 
respects  entitled. 

At  the  present  day,  however,  Cannes  of  itself  offers  but  few 
comforts  and  attractions  to  strangers.  Those  who  visit  it  are 
drawn  thither  by  the  pretty  villas  built  in  the  adjoining  val- 
leys, or  on  the  charming  heights  that  surround  it,  by  foreign 
residents.  Lord  Brougham  has  for  many  years  owned  a  de- 
lightful residence  here,  and  the  picturesque  and  splendid  cha- 
teau of  Lord  Lowndesborough  is  worthy  of  note. 

It  is  only  in  a  villa  that  any  thing  like  comfort  can  be  ob- 
tained by  an  invalid,  but  it  is  veiy  difficult  to  procure  one,  as 
the  owners  have  built  them  for  their  own  use,  and  usually  reside 
in  them  with  their  families.     It  is  seldom  that  one  can  be  rented. 

The  retreat  that  sheltered  Rachel's  last  days  was  not  in 
Cannes,  but  in  Cannet,  a  little  village  in  the  environs,  of  very 
difficult  access.  The  road  to  it  is  from  Cannes,  and  so  ex- 
tremely steep  and  rugged  that  at  one  point  it  is  altogether 
impracticable  to  carriages  and  horses.  The  visitor  to  the 
villa  of  M.  Sardou,  where  Rachel  received  so  generous  a  hos- 

Q 


362  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

pitalitj,  is  obliged  to  walk  or  be  carried  through  the  ravines 
and  valleys  which  forbid  its  approach,  and  when  he  has  reached 
the  goal,  he  finds  that  difficulties  of  another  nature  are  yet  to 
be  surmounted  before  he  can  enter  it. 

The  house,  spacious,  beautifully  situated  in  an  orange  grove, 
and  well  guarded  from  the  wind,  is  singularly  constructed. 
The  main  building  has  no  staircase,  consequently  the  door  af- 
fords an  entrance  to  the  ground  floor  only.  To  reach  the 
upper  story  one  must  enter  the  left-hand  turret,  ascend  the 
stairs  to  the  second  floor,  cross  a  bridge  connecting  with  anoth- 
er turret,  descend  one  pair  of  stairs  in  that  turret,  and  cross 
another  bridge,  which  finally  leads  into  the  upper  stories  of 
the  house  itself. 

The  owner  of  this  pretty  villa,  M.  Sardou,  formerly  of  the 
Grand  Opera,  placed  it  at  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  disposal,  posi- 
tively refusing  any  remuneration,  while  M.  Mario  Nechai'd, 
the  author  of  "La  Fiammina,"  by  whom  it  was  then  inhabited, 
as  courteously  gave  it  up  to  her.  No  more  favorable  situation 
could  possibly  have  been  chosen,  and  the  interior  of  the  house 
was  fitted  up  in  a  style  that  boi'e  witness  to  the  owner's  taste 
for  the  fine  arts. 

M.  Sardou  had  been  the  intimate  friend  of  the  sculptor 
David  (of  Anglers),  and  many  of  that  artist's  works  ornament- 
ed the  rooms.  In  the  best  chamber — a  spacious  one,  with 
high,  snow-white  walls,  adorned  with  friezes  and  sculptures 
in  the  antique  style — the  bedstead  was  also  white,  and  seemed 
carved  of  stone.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed  was  a  statue  of  the 
Grecian  Polhymnia,  wearing  on  its  marble  features  an  ex- 
pression of  intense  sadness ;  attired  in  long,  sweeping  robes, 
that  had  a  funereal  aspect,  she  leaned  on  a  pedestal  that  re- 
sembled a  tombstone.  This  figure,  which  gave  the  beholder 
the  idea  of  a  mourner  sorrowing  over  a  grave,  made  so  pain- 
ful an  impression  that  it  was  immediately  removed. 

But  as  in  the  life  of  every  great  public  character  there  must 
always  be  some  remarkable  prediction  or  wonderful  dream 
shadowing  forth  the  coming  event  previous  to  some  great 
crisis,  the  following  is  said  to  have  occasioned  the  horror  with 
which  the  first  sight  of  her  dormitory  at  Cannet  filled  the  mind 
of  the  tragedienne. 


MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEL.  363 

After  the  performance  on  the  8th  of  July,  1852,  before  an 
audience  of  kings  and  princes,  who  had  admired  and  compli- 
mented her  to  her  heart's  content,  she  had  retired  to  bed  in  a 
state  of  feverish  excitement. 

That  night  she  had  a  fearful  dream. 

A  giant's  hand,  burning  like  fire,  heavy  as  lead,  covered  her 
chest,  crushing  it  despite  all  her  efforts  to  rid  herself  of  the 
dreadful  weight.  She  dreamed  that,  awaking  with  the  excru- 
ciating pain,  she  found  herself  in  a  room  that  was  not  the  one 
she  had  retired  to,  in  a  bed  that  was  not  the  one  she  had  fallen 
asleep  in ;  the  room  was  spacious,  its  tall  walls  were  white, 
and  near  the  bed  was  a  prie-dieu  of  white  marble,  over  which 
hung  a  marble  figure. 

A  voice  that  seemed  to  belong  to  the  invisible  body  under 
whose  visible  hands  she  was  writhing  uttered  several  times 
these  words :  "  Thou  shalt  die  here  under  my  hand !  thou 
shalt  die  here  under  my  hand!" 

The  aspect  of  the  chamber  at  the  Villa  Sardou  was  certainly 
sufficient  to  convey  a  melancholy  impression  to  one  so  ill,  and 
no  dream  was  needed  to  account  for  it. 

Her  health  continued  for  some  time  to  fluctuate  capricious- 
ly, but  during  these  alternations  she  daily  Avaxed  Aveaker. 
One  day  she  would  declare  herself  much  better,  the  next  she 
would  be  in  a  state  of  complete  prostration.  These  physical 
variations  necessarily  reacted  on  the  nerves,  and  her  humor 
varied  accordingly. 

In  the  beginning,  and  while  she  could  still  find  energy  for 
any  kind  of  employment,  she  would  beguile  time  doing  such 
work  as  required  no  particular  attention  or  nicety,  and  con- 
stantly desired  Rose  to  give  her  "more  towels  to  hem." 

When  she  felt  able  she  received  a  few  friends,  and,  when 
forbidden  to  speak,  listened  to  their  chat  or  played  at  cards, 
always  her  favorite  pastime. 

One  day,  when  she  was  in  the  enjoyment  of  one  of  those 
occasional  moments  of  "  feeling  quite  well  again,"  with  which 
treacherous  consumption  deludes  the  victims  it  has  irretriev- 
ably condemned — gleams  of  sunshine  that  render  the  succeed- 
ins;  "loom  more  terrible — she  manifested  a  desire  to  go  down 


&^ 


into  the  garden.     She  was  immediately  carried  there,  and  the 


364  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

peasants  of  the  neighborhood  having  assembled,  danced  for 
her  amusement  their  Proven9al  dances,  called  Ferandoles.  But 
poor  Rachel  was  sustained  but  by  a  momentary  and  feverish 
excitement ;  her  spirits  fell  as  rapidly  as  they  had  risen  ;  she 
could  not  bear  even  these  innocent  amusements  long;  a  spasm 
came  on  that  put  an  end  to  the  improvised  fete,  and  the  actors 
stole  off  like  the  performers  in  a  comic  opera  scene,  with  hush- 
'^d  tread  and  finger  on  lip,  astonished,  fi'ightened,  and  sad- 
dened. 

During  her  sojourn  at  Cannet  Rachel  was  attended  by  M. 
Maure,  former  representative  in  both  assemblies  of  the  Repub- 
lic, and  a  nephew  of  the  eloquent  conventionalist  Isnard.  The 
medical  talent  of  M.  Maure  was  thought  much  of  in  all  Pro- 
vence, but  when  the  danger  increased  her  own  physician  was 
sent  for  from  Paris ;  human  skill  was,  however,  powerless ;  the 
disease  was  too  deeply  rooted. 

Her  desire  to  live  was  intense ;  the  nearer  she  approached 
to  death,  the  more  despairingly  she  clung  to  the  life  that  was 
escaping  her.  Her  docility  to  her  physicians  was  implicit ; 
she  followed  to  the  letter  every  prescription,  obeyed  every 
hint,  asking  but  to  live — to  live — to  live  ! 

Her  sufferings  were  extreme,  and  she  must  have  often  thought 
of  her  sister  Rebecca's  exclamation  under  similar  circumstan- 
ces: "Oh  God,  must  one  suffer  thus  to  die!" 

The  tragedienne  endured  patiently,  sustained  by  the  hope 
that  she  would  survive  all  pain,  and  she  had  every  consola- 
tion that  friendship  could  bring,  every  comfort  that  wealth 
could  purchase.  Her  sister  Sarah  never  left  her  for  a  moment ; 
and,  as  we  have  already  said,  although  the  creature  of  im- 
pulse, and  ungovernable  in  her  fits  of  passion,  whenever  there 
was  imminent  danger  she  was  extremely  kind  and  attentive. 
Sarah  was  the  only  member  of  her  father's  family  present 
when  the  last  sad  hour  came. 

The  tie  between  Rachel  and  Sarah  was  closer  than  that 
which  bound  them  to  the  other  sisters.  Between  these  two 
there  was  less  distance  of  time  ;  they  had  known  poverty  and 
want  together,  they  had  grown  up  in  evil  days,  of  which  Leah, 
and  more  especially  Dinah,  had  little  remembrance.  There 
were,  perhaps,  other  and  far  more  serious  motives  on  Rachel's 


MEMOIRS   OP   RACHEL.  365 

side  for  the  preference  shown  for  Sarah,  in  whose  friendship 
she  had  trusted  on  occasions  of  difficulty  and  danger. 

Rebecca  had  at  one  time  been  the  favorite  sister  of  the  tra- 
gedienne, but  when  she  died  there  was  too  great  a  disparity 
of  age  to  permit  of  either  of  the  otlier  girls  taking  her  place. 

Raphael,  being  the  only  brother,  was  naturally  a  favorite, 
but  Rachel  especially  was  always  disposed  to  tx'eat  him  with 
unbounded  indulgence.  An  anecdote,  related  by  herself,  proves 
that  in  early  childhood  she  exercised  no  small  degree  of  influ- 
ence over  him. 

Little  Rachel  had  seen,  among  the  paltry  gewgaws,  gilt 
chains,  pinchbeck  rings,  necklaces,  &c.,  exposed  for  sale  in 
open  cases  by  a  neighbor,  a  trinket  she  coveted  exceedingly — 
the  article  that  had  so  much  attracted  the  notice  of  the  child 
of  Israel  was,  strange  to  say,  a  cross !  Without,  perhaps,  any 
very  definite  idea  of  the  difference  between  meimi  and  tuian, 
but  actuated  by  the  impulse  that  has  led  many  better-schooled 
and  higher-born  children,  she  commissioned  her  little  brother 
to  steal  this  cross.  The  proprietor  of  the  desecrated  symbol, 
having  found  out  who  was  the  thief,  carried  his  complaint  to 
the  parents,  who  were  very  indignant.  The  charge  being 
clearly  made  out,  condign  punishment  was  administered  to  the 
culprit.  Though  very  severely  beaten,  the  boy  maintained  a 
Spartan  silence  with  regard  to  his  accomplice,  never  attempt- 
ing to  plead  the  extenuating  circumstance  of  having  operated 
for  another.  As  for  Rachel,  she  used  to  say  she  never  would 
forget  her  feelings  when  she  saw  her  little  brother  hauled  about 
by  the  hair  and  whipped  for  doing  her  bidding.  Fright,  how- 
ever, left  no  room  for  magnanimity,  and  she  did  not  confess 
her  participation  in  the  sin,  but  she  learned  a  lesson  that  was 
of  no  small  value — she  was  taught  the  consequences  of  steal- 
ing, and  what  another  child  acquires  with  years  she  did  in  an 
hour.  She  was  wont  to  remark  that,  when  very  young,  the 
propensity  to  steal  was  very  strong  in  her,  but  that  this  inci- 
dent had  effectually  cured  her. 

She  had  a  great  passion  for  gambling,  and,  when  surround- 
ed by  her  family  and  intimate  friends,  was  always  getting  up 
some  game,  even  if  it  was  but  the  child's  play  of  loto.  She 
was  not  very  scrupulous  in  her  play,  cheating  whenever  she 


366         '  MEMOIRS   OF   RACHEI,. 

got  a  chance,  perfectly  delighted  when  she  won  a  few  francs, 
and  quite  out  of  temper  if  she  lost  insignificant  sums.  Yet, 
after  manifesting  the  utmost  vexation  and  ill-humor  because 
she  had  lost  a  few  francs,  if  Raphael  came  in  with  some  plau- 
sible reason  for  wanting  a  couple  of  thousand,  she  would  give 
them  without  hesitation. 

During  her  last  illness  her  children  were  with  her,  the  eld- 
est accompanied  by  his  tutor,  and  the  youngest  having  been 
sent  fi-om  his  college  of  St.  Barbe,  at  her  request,  to  stay  with 
her. 

Her  mother  was  not  with  her  when  she  died,  though  she 
had  remained  with  her  some  time  previous  to  the  last  mo- 
ments. Rachel,  actuated  by  the  capricious  impulse  which 
sometimes  led  her  to  do  the  most  unexplainable  things,  insist- 
ed peremptorily,  a  few  days  before  her  death,  that  Madame 
Felix  should  return  to  Paris  and  attend  to  some  business  for 
her.  She  seemed,  indeed,  to  wish  all  her  relatives  away,  with 
the  exception  of  Sarah. 

Nor  were  those  who  had  been  friends  and  admirers  of  the 
gay  and  brilliant  tragedienne  forgetful  of  her  when,  wasted  by 
disease  and  saddened  by  the  prospect  of  approaching  dissolu- 
tion, she  could  no  longer  minister  to  their  amusement  or  grati- 
fy their  vanity.  Prince  Napoleon,  when  at  Marseilles,  made 
an  excursion  to  Cannet  and  visited  the  poor  invalid,  who  was 
deeply  moved  by  this  proof  of  his  imperial  highness's  kind  re- 
membrance. She  could  no  longer  sit  up,  but  the  wish  to  ap- 
pear to  advantage  still  ruled  the  heart  whose  beats  were  num- 
bered. To  receive  the  visit  with  which  she  was  to  be  honor- 
ed she  had  caused  herself  to  be  dressed  in  an  elegant  quilted 
white  silk  j^^ignoi)' ;  a  profusion  of  rich  lace  concealed  the 
emaciated  rueck  and  wrists,  and  a  pretty  morning  cap  shaded 
the  pale  cheeks. 

Another  kind  heart,  whose  sympathy  she  had  less  reason 
to  expect,  M.  Legouve,  the  poet,  with  whom  she  had  had  the 
lawsuit  in  1853,  hastened  from  Paris  expressly  to  offer  her 
this  last  proof  of  friendship.  The  breach,  ajirojws  of"  Medee," 
had  recently  been  made  up.  A  short  time  before  her  death 
Rachel  had  dictated  a  charming  letter  to  the  poet,  in  answer 
to  which  he  had  gone  to  see  her.     He  arrived  within  four 


MEMOius  OF  KAcinii-  ;i(;T 

days  of  the  one  that  proved  her  last,  and  when  no  one  could 
be  admitted. 

After  having  clung  so  despairingly  to  life,  as  the  term  ap- 
proached she  would  at  times  speak  of  it  calmly,  though  in 
reality  her  hopes  were  never  quite  extinguished.  A  week 
before  her  death  she  admitted  a  stranger  of  distinction  to  sec 
her,  and  seemed  gratified  with  the  sympathy  he  expressed. 
To  the  never-failing  request  for  her  autogi-aph,  she  replied, 
"  Ah  !  you  do  well  to  ask  for  it  now ;  it  will  soon  be  too 
late."  She  then  wrote  on  a  sheet  of  paper,  "  In  a  week  from 
now  I  shall  begin  to  be  food  for  worms,  and  for  writers  of 
biographies.      Eachel." 

The  visitor,  shocked  at  so  sinister  an  anticipation,  wished 
to  decline  the  autograph,  but  she  pushed  it  toward  hira,  say- 
ing, "  Take  it,  take  it ;  it  will,  perhaps,  be  the  last  thing  1 
shall  ever  write." 

On  the  2 2d  of  December  she  did  write,  though  with  great 
difficulty,  a  letter  to  a  veiy  distinguished  personage,  and  dated 
it  January  1st,  1858,  accounting  for  her  so  dojng  in  these 
Avords  :'' I  post-date  this  letter.  *  *  *  *  I  feel  as  though 
the  doing  so  will  make  me  live  till  then."  And  she  did  out- 
live her  date,  though  but  for  three  days. 

From  a  letter  written  to  M.  Sardou,  the  proprietor  of  the 
house  in  which  she  died,  by  a  friend  who  was  present,  we  box'- 
row  the  following  interesting  account  of  her  last  moments  : 

"  I  had  felt  the  approach  of  the  fatal  event  on  Friday,  Jan- 
uary 1,  when  we  exchanged  the  compliments  of  the  New  Year. 
Rachel  embraced  us  with  so  much  feeling  it  was  evident  that 
in  her  own  mind  she  anticipated  the  eternal  adieux.  Doctor 
Bergonier  had,  however,  assured  me  we  might  yet  expect  life 
would  be  prolonged  a  few  days. 

"On  Saturday  nothing  particular  occurred.  Rachel  re- 
mained, as  usual,  plunged  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  the  effect  of  ex- 
cessive debility,  and  from  which  she  was  now,  at  intervals, 
roused  by  fits  of  excessive  pain,  after  which  she  would  again 
fall  asleep.  Toward  midnigl.t  she  awoke  quite  calm,  as  though 
out  of  a  long  sleep,  and  chatted  familiarly  with  those  around 
her  bed.  She  desired  to  write  to  her  father,  but  had  not 
strength  to  finish.     The  letter  she  was  dictating  contained  her 


368  yuEaaxKS  or  gAi-^n . 

la^  i^e^ioest^  hssA  xiaSsmt  ^p^ans  cf  pain  oompdikal  Im-  to  ce&se 
^js-feELetiEEsex  Site  romamed  in  a  state  of  coD^ete  proetantioa. 
and  wMi.  infinite  tzonble  was  made  to  svraDow  a  fittle  suste- 
nance SnoosL  txnie  to  tune. 

^  A&  eleven  o''«$?<?&  mt  Sundae^  moming  the  es^pedtarx&m 
bad  Iteeeme  sz>  '.  .  sluat  it  uras  &aied  ^le  would  choke : 

am  nne^ieec  r  xdtieTed  her,  cafan  soceeeded  to 

tHiiis  eiaa:5.  --    !  a  wi^  to  finish -flie  ktter 

to-hfar  :fejLi-ir.  .'^_-  _.;..-..-  ..  :.-f  end, lead  it^  aQ  over, and 
then  essSsi!!^y?^~ 

'^'ily  '-::.-  -    :  :.  lamgoii^to  see  thee! 


Siii:-:.?.z/-  ;    "  ,       .    -.and 

-   -  :  .   ■  •    -     "    ine  CooasMHv  , :'  >'; :  r, 

-_..:„  :_._;.v..  -      -.  ^.r"  andwone::. 

:.".':■'-■"'     _    '  7  ■     -^ '-.  HI;  infanc-^    ■ 

-■:i:;  :-^     -               -  -  ---;          ..em  she 

- 1  :  •:  _7t::  ._:  ten  o'doek  thoe  w&f 

M  like  tl  . :           _      i_  :    .:._.  -^  ...ch  alarmed  all  dr         .-r. 

1"  "--'-"--     '  ''.V  ':v5((j  and -flue  men' ■::>  :z 

•  ~  "  -^  "Taen  and  an         "  ■    r. 


toward  the  silvers. 


-•'t  nr-  50' ttEue© ;  feireak  : :  ..:  Madlier  to  dnstt^  andsntf- 


3  of  Badbd  %emed  iDinmiied  bj  oek^tlal 

jOSltmiKQ  * 


u  c  ' 


■  - 1^ — •  -'■.  T&e,  lajrd  Idsbs  le^Bed^  ifloe  ieHrd  win  ragn 


ME3I0IRS    OB'    RACHEL.  369 

"  '  The  Eternal  One  is  Grod !  (seven  limes). 

"  'Listen,  Israel, 'the  Eternal,  onr  God,  the  Eternal  is  one. 

"  '  Go,  then,  whither  the  Lord  callcth  thee.  Go,  and  mav  His  mercy 
assist  thee.  May  the  Eternal,  our  God,  be  with  thee ;  may  His  immor- 
tal angels  guide  thee  to  heaven,  and  may  the  righteous  rejoice  when 
th(;  Lord  receiveth  thee  ia  His  bosom  ! 

"  'God  of  otir  fathers,  revive  in  Thy  mercy  this  soul  that  goeth  to 
Thee ;  unite  it  to  those  of  the  holy  patriarchs,  amid  the  eternal  joys  of 
the  heavenly  Paradise  !     Amen.' 

"  Rachel  pressed  Sarah's  hand,  and  expired  with  a  smile 
upon  her  lips. 

"  And  the  singers  said, 

"  'Blessed  be  the  Judge  of  Truth  I' 

"All  present  were  moved  bv  the  tokens  of  heavenly  grace 
Rachel  had  manifested.  It  can  not  be  doubted  that  Rachel 
died  with  the  hope  of  another  life. 

"  Until  now  I  had  doubted  this  faith  of  hers,  which,  per- 
haps, was  not  definite  and  free  from  doubt  until  the  last  sol- 
emn moment.  However,  I  must  confess  that  I  had  already 
heard  her  utter  words  of  religious  hope  on  the  occasion  of  a 
solemn  act  of  her  life,  which  took  place  on  the  15th  of  last 
December. 

"  But,  though  she  was,  to  all  outward  appearance,  dead,  life 
was  not  in  reality  extinct  for  some  time  after  the  fatal  news 
had  been  telegraphed  to  her  relatives  in  Paris.  The  syncope 
that  preceded  death  bore  so  much  resemblance  to  it  that  even 
the  physicians  were  deceived  by  it.  The  one  who  was  to  em- 
balm the  body  fancied  he  discerned  a  slight  beating  of  the  ar- 
tery of  the  neck.  A  mirror  held  to  the  lips  showed  no  sign 
of  breath,  but  there  was  an  almost  impercepible  motion  of  the 
heart,  which  did  not  cease  for  some  hours." 

Rachel  had  died  withoxit  a  sigh.  Of  all  her  relatives,  Sa- 
rah, who  had  not  left  her  since  her  departure  from  Paris,  was 
the  only  one  present  at  the  last  scene.  Rose,  the  faithful 
maid,  who  had  attended  her  for  twenty  years,  and  decked  her 
for  many  a  triumph,  smoothed  the  pillow  under  the  death-pale 
cheek.  The  doctor,  the  Rabbi  of  Nice,  and  ten  members  of 
the  Consistory,  were  the  other  persons  present.  So  cabn  and 
beautifid  were  the  features  after  death  that  a  photograph  was 
taken  of  them. 

Q2 


370  MEMOIHS    OF    RACHICr.. 

The  body  was  embalmed  and  taken  to  Paris  for  interment. 
When  the  bier  passed  through  Marseilles,  the  Rabbi  and  Con- 
sistory of  that  city  came  to  the  station  and  said  prayers  over 
the  body,  after  which  the  coffin  was  raised  by  the  members 
and  carried  to  the  railway  carriage. 

Though  every  token  of  respect  was  paid  thus  publicly  to 
the  remains  of  this  celebrated  woman,  though  they  were  brought 
to  Paris  with  all  the  care,  the  pomp  of  woe,  that  money  could 
procure,  a  delay,  occasioned,  as  already  related,  by  the  fact  that 
death  did  not  really  take  place  at  the  time  it  was  supposed, 
gave  rise  to  the  most  absurd  reports.  The  story  ran  that, 
to  avoid  expense,  the  body  had  been  put  into  a  common  deal 
packing-case,  and  sent  to  the  railway  to  be  forwarded  to  Paris 
as  merchandise ;  that,  in  accordance  with  this  denomination, 
it  had  been  stowed  away  in  the*  luggage  van,  but  on  the  arri- 
val of  the  train  at  the  Lyons  station,  to  the  amazement  of  all, 
the  case  was  missing!  Who  could  have  had  any  inducement 
to  commit  so  sacrilegious  a  theft  ?    None  but  a  lover,  of  course ; 

consequently  it  must  have  been  M .     He  had  been  her 

first  love.  After  a  rupture  that  had  lasted  years,  during  which 
each  had  sought  consolation  elsewhere,  the  breach  had  been 
healed,  the  friendly  intercourse  resumed,  the  tie  cemented 
anew.  Rachel  had  no  sooner  undertaken  the  transatlantic 
excursion  that  had  proved  so  fatal  than  she  longed  to  return 
to  Europe.     To  the  addresses  of  new  admirers  she  replied  by 

showing  the  portrait  of  M .     On  her  arrival  in  France, 

she  had,  with  her  sister  Sai'ah,  been  on  a  visit  at  his  country 
residence,  and  when  her  health  sent  her  to  Egypt,  she  had 

been  followed  thither  by.  her  faithful  friend.      M was 

lai'gely  interested  in  the  Lyons  railway,  and  could  easily  pos- 
sess himself  of  the  case  that  contained  all  that  remained  of 
her  he  had  loved.  The  object  of  the  theft  was  to  inter  the 
precious  remains  in  his  own  grounds,  and  erect  there  a  monu- 
ment over  which  he  might  mourn  unseen  by  profane  eyes. 

The  arrival  of  Sarah,  accompanying  the  remains,  at  last 
silenced  the  indefatigable  newsmongers,  and  the  funeral  obse- 
quies were  performed  according  to  the  Jewish  rites,  in  the  Is- 
raelite division  of  the  cemetery  of  Pere  la  Chaise.  The  hearse 
was  preceded  by  the  Grand  Rabbi  of  the  Jewish  Consistory 


JIEMOIKS    OF    UACIIKL.  371 

of  Paris,  and  followed  by  the  father,  brother,  and  youngest 
boy  as  chief  mourners.  The  ribbons  were  held  by  IMM.  Alex. 
Dumas  (the  elder),  Auguste  Maquet,  Chairman  of  the  Society 
of  Dramatic  Authors,  M.  GeofFroy,  societaire  of  the  The'atre 
Frangais,  and  Baron  Taylor. 

Notwithstanding  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  the  crowd 
was  immense.  Perhaps  no  dramatic  artist  was  ever  followed 
to  the  grave  by  so  numerous  a  cortege  of  distinguished  writers. 
Among  these  illustrious  were  INLM.  Scribe,  Alphonse  de  Vigny, 
St.  Beuve,  Emilie  Augier,  Lcgouve,  Viennet,  and  other  mem- 
bers of  the  Academy ;  M.  Camille  Doucet,  from  the  Minis- 
ters d'Etat ;  M.  Emile  de  Girardin  ;  MM.  Halevy,  Alexander 
Dumas,  Auguste  Barbier,  Fiorentino,  Mario  Nehaud,  Arsene 
Houssaye,  Louis  de  Eatisbonne,  Latour  de  St.  Ybars,  Michael 
Levy,  and  the  managers  of  the  Parisian  theatres.  The  ma- 
jority of  the  artistes  of  the  Gi'and  Opera,  Theatre  Fran^ais, 
Opei'a  Comique,  &c.,  «S:c.,  Avere  also  there. 

Funeral  orations  were  spoken  by  MM.  Jules  Janin,  Auguste 
Maquet,  and  Bataille. 

The  public  testimony  the  rabbi's  words  afforded  that  the 
tragedienne  had  died  in  the  faith  of  the  people  was  probabl}^ 
introduced  in  his  discourse  on  account  of  the  reports  circu- 
lated that  in  her  heart,  at  least,  she  was  a  Catholic,  in  corrob- 
oration of  which  it  was  assorted  that  during  her  last  illness 
she  had  constantly  worn  on  her  bosom  an  image  of  the  Vir- 
gin, and  that,  so  long  as  she  had  strength  to  read  any  thing, 
her  favorite  book  was  the  "Imitation."  How  far  this  was 
true  it  is  difficult  to  say,  as  Sarah  was  too  stanch  a  Jewess 
not  to  conceal  from  every  eye  any  such  manifestations  of  apos- 
tasy if  they  had  existed.  Rachel  herself,  even  at  the  last  hour, 
gave  no  positive  indication  of  a  preference  for  any  particular 
creed,  not  even  of  the  one  she  was  born  in,  and  of  which  she 
had  never  been  a  strict  observer. 

But  while  so  many  men,  ranking  high  in  the  different 
branches  of  literature  and  art,  had  hastened  to  testif}',  by  their 
presence,  the  loss  sustained  by  the  classic  drama,  the  absence 
of  one  whose  place  no  other  could  fill  was  noticed  with  sur- 
prise. M.  Sanson,  the  professor  whose  lessons  during  so  many 
years  bad  so  largely  contiihuted  to  the  success  of  INIadomni- 


372  MEMOIRS    OF    RACHEL. 

selle  Rachel,  and  who  was  expected,  as  the  representative  of 
the  Comedie  Fran^aise,  to  have  pronounced  her  funeral  ora- 
tion, was  not  even  present  at  the  burial.  The  reason  soon 
became  public.  On  the  previous  Saturday,  M.  Empis,  the 
manager  of  the  Comedie  Francjaise,  had  received  a  letter  from 
M.  Felix,  sen.,  the  purport  of  which  was  that  he  hoped  some 
one  would  speak,  in  the  name  of  the  company,  at  the  inter- 
ment of  his  daughter,  appointed  to  take  place  on  the  follow- 
ing Monday,  but,  at  the  same  time,  peremptorily  rejecting  M. 
Sanson  as  the  orator. 

The  letter  having  been  communicated  to  the  societaires,  this 
expression  of  hostility  toward  a  comrade  who  was  loved  and 
esteemed  by  all  was  very  properly  resented,  and  it  was  re- 
solved that  no  one  should  take  the  place  of  him  whom  merit 
and  priority  of  standing  in  the  company  entitled  to  represent  it. 

Thus  it  was  fated  that  dissensions  and  petty  quarrels  should 
accompany  her  career  even  beyond  the  grave. 


APPENDIX. 


It  might  have  been  supposed  that  the  curtain  had  dropped  over  the 
closing  scene,  and  that  the  last  French  tragedienne  had  been  left  to  rest 
in  the  tomb  hallowed  by  the  memory  of  genius.  Not  so.  Scarcely 
three  months  had  elapsed  since  she  was  laid  in  her  grave  when  her 
name,  placarded  all  over  Paris,  once  more  called  the  public,  when  the 
curtain  was  once  more  raised.  This  time  the  after-piece  acted  was 
sadder  than  any  tragedy  in  which  she  had,  living,  borne  a  part ;  it  was 
entitled  "  Vente  Apres  Deces  de  Mademoiselle  Rachel."  The  only  ar- 
ticles it  had  been  thought  necessary  to  specify  in  these  notices  were  the 
china  and^ne  wines. 

The  tragidienne  had  been,  throughout  her  career,  the  stay  and  chief 
support  of  her  father's  family.  She  had  been  exploitce  for  their  benefit 
as  much  as  for  her  own,  to  the  last  gasp,  and  now  that  she  was  dead 
it  occurred  to  the  children  of  Israel  that  something  more  might  be 
made  out  of  her  remains.  The  spoils  were  to  be  divided,  and,  as  it  is 
not  the  custom  in  these  degenerate  days  to  cast  lots  for  the  raiment  of 
the  dead,  hers  was  put  up  at  auction. 

Great  ingenuity  was  exerted  in  order  to  make  the  most  of  the  pres- 
tige attached  to  eveiy  thing  that  had  belonged  to  Rachel.  Ever}'  ar- 
ticle was  classed,  and  a  number  of  catalogues  were  distributed  all  over 
the  countiy.  The  sale  was  pompously  announced,  and  private  and 
public  exhibition  days  appointed,  with  all  the  ceremonial  of  sergents  de 
ville  to  guard  the  treasures,  and  cicerones  to  explain  them. 

The  show  was  a  sad  one.  The  things  that  had  become  identified 
with  the  mistress  Avhom  they  had  contributed  to  adorn  and  beautify, 
that  with  her  had  had  their  home  sacred  and  inviolate,  were  now  but 
so  many  goods  and  chattels,  inventoried,  catalogued,  numbered,  ready 
to  come  under  the  hammer,  thence  to  be  scattered  abroad  in  every  di- 
rection. 

In  one  room,  on  tables,  were  displayed  the  ornaments  and  properties 
pertaining  to  each  character;  the  damascened  corslet,  the  casque  and 
gauntlets  of  Joan  of  Arc ;  the  gem-hilted  poniard  of  Roxane ;  the 
Egyptian  diadem  of  Cleopdtre ;  and  the  cameos  of  Phcdre ;  the  tiaras 
and  sceptres  of  the  royal  dames  the  tragedienne  had  evoked  from  their 
lethargic  sleep,  and  that  now  had  died  with  her  who  had  personified 
them  so  well.     Against  the  walls  were  arranged  the  theatrical  cos- 


oT4  APPENDIX. 

tumes.  On  a  near  inspection,  it  was  evident  that  the  dresses  were 
made  of  the  most  costly  materials ;  but,  as  they  hung  there,  lank,  limp, 
and  shapeless,  empty  of  the  lithe  form  that  had  given  such  classic  grace 
to  their  folds,  such  queenly  dignity  to  their  sweeping  trains,  the  rich 
vestures  gave  the  place  the  appearance  of  a  costumier's  show-room. 

Had  they  voices,  what  disclosures  those  embroidered  bodices,  those 
jeweled  crowns  might  make  of  the  passionate  workings  of  the  heart 
they  had  covered,  the  brain  they  had  encircled !  Little,  however,  did 
the  careless  crowd  trouble  itself  with  such  conjectures  as  it  passed 
along,  commenting  on  all  it  saw  and  on  all  it  had  heard,  on  the  prob- 
able value  of  the  gewgaws,  and  on  the  errors  of  her  who  had  worn 
them. 

In  another  room  were  arranged  the  plate  and  real  jewels,  the  latter 
in  show-cases  much  after  the  manner  in  which  those  of  some  crowned 
heads  were  seen  at  the  two  great  Exhibitions  in  London  and  Paris,  and 
really  almost  as  worthy  admiration.  The  imperial  and  royal  gifts,  each 
recording  some  triumph  of  which  it  had  been  the  brilliant  reward,  were 
placed  conspicuously. 

The  library,  though  not  extensive,  was  valuable,  inasmuch  as  many 
of  the  books,  having  been  presented  by  the  authors,  Hugo,  Lamartine, 
Ponsard,  Emilie  Augier,  and  others  of  the  most  admired  modern  poets, 
contained  their  autographs,  and,  in  some  cases,  complimentary  verses 
addressed  to  the  tragedienne.  Among  the  works  of  the  theatrical  re- 
pertory were  tragedies  with  alterations,  additions,  and  remarks  in  the 
handwriting  of  Talma,  to  whom  they  had  belonged ;  others  had  been 
similarly  annotated  by  the  late  owner. 

Among  the  smaller  articles  of  menage  was  a  cup  of  Sevres  porcelain, 
which  was  doubly  valuable  from  having  also  pertained  to  two  theatrical 
celebrities :  its  first  owner  was  Mademoiselle  Clairon.  The  paintings 
and  richest  portion  of  the  furniture  had  been  disposed  of  at  the  sale  of 
the  effects  in  the  Hotel  Trudon,  some  time  before  Mademoiselle  Ra- 
chel's death. 

So  far  there  was  nothing  very  objectionable  in  the  exhibition.  It 
was  probably  necessary  that  the  plate,  jewels,  and  other  articles  should 
be  sold,  in  order  to  make  a  division  of  the  property  in  accordance  with 
the  will  of  the  deceased.  But  it  really  seemed  unnecessary,  as  well  as 
grossly  indelicate,  to  make  a  public  exhibition  and  sale  of  the  personal 
linen  of  the  tragedienne ;  if  the  family  could  not  make  some  arrange- 
ment among  themselves  with  regard  to  sixch  articles,  they  might,  at 
least,  have  been  more  privately  disposed  of.  The  whole  stock — and  it 
was  a  larger  one  than  many  ready-made  linen  warehouses  contain — to- 
gether with  the  dresses,  shawls,  and  laces,  was  set  down  in  a  sei)arate 
catalogue,  and  displayed  in  the  bed-chamber.  The  petticoats  of  Adri- 
enne  Lecouvreur  and  the  hose  of  Marie  Stuart  were  to  be  knocked  down 
to  the  highest  bidder,  as  well  as  the  pepluni  of  Camille  and  mantle  of 
JPhcdre. 

Here,  too,  was  to  be  seen  the  only  creature  whose  countenance  indi- 


APPENDIX.  3 


lo 


catccl  a  consciousness  of  the  desecration  poing  on.  By  the  hed,  on 
which  was  spread  a  small  fortune  in  laces,  sat  a  woman  past  the  mid- 
dle age,  whose  thin  figure  was  clotlied  in  mourning,  and  around  whose 
wrinkled  features  the  border  of  a  black  cap,  unrelieved  by  a  bit  of  white, 
was  just  visible.  This  was  Rose,  in  whose  care  for  twenty  years  the 
wardrobe  of  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  always  remained.  She  still  sat 
there,  faithful  to  her  trust  to  the  last,  the  poor  old  waiting-maid  who 
had  seen  the  commencement  and  the  close  of  the  tragedienne's  career, 
who  had  decked  her  so  often  with  that  finery,  and  who,  with  the  same 
trembling  hands,  had  attired  her  in  her  last  dress. 

What  her  feelings  were  needed  no  telling.  In  the  deep  lines  around 
the  compressed  lips  grief  and  anger  were  mingled,  and  the  look  in  the 
dark  eyes  that  glared  at  each  stranger  who  approached  to  examine  the 
laces  on  the  bed  was  one  of  hatred  and  defiance.  Though  the  figure 
was  motionless,  though  the  head  never  turned,  the  look  followed  you ; 
you  could  not  get  rid  of  it ;  it  reached  whatever  good  feeling  lay  under- 
neath the  thick  coating  of  selfishness  with  which  experience  of  the 
world  had  covered  your  heart ;  you  felt  thoroughly  ashamed  of  the  idle 
curiosity  that  had  brought  you  there  to  overhaul  those  sad  relics,  and, 
unheeding  the  admonitions  of  the  Cerberus  in  the  shape  of  a  sei-geant 
de  ville,  bawling  out  at  short  intervals,  "  Passez,  Messieurs;  passez,  Mes- 
dames,"  you  hastened  to  make  your  escape. 

The  same  eye  to  effect  that  had  presided  over  the  arrangement  of  the 
difterent  articles  had  organized  the  sales.  In  lieu  of  the  crowd  of  sor- 
didly-clothed,  dirty-faced,  hook-nosed,  long-bearded,  cunning-eyed  deal- 
ers in  second-hand  goods,  hustling,  jostling,  elbowing,  and  crushing  the 
toes  of  any  luckless  wight  whose  decent  appearance  proclaimed  him  not 
one  of  them,  the  respectable-looking  bidders  who  filled  the  rows  of  vel- 
vet-covered benches  looked  as  though  they  had  met  there  to  hear  morn- 
ing concerts.  The  auctioneer  himself  spoke  in  subdued  tones,  as 
though  he  were  murmuring  prayers,  to  which  the  attentive  audience 
gave  the  responses. 

The  buyers  -NVere,  as  we  have  already  said,  of  the  better  classes  at 
these  sales,  with  the  exception,  however,  of  the  two  days  on  which  the 
costumes  wei'e  sold,  when  numerous  costumiers  and  marchandes  a  la 
toilette  came  in  search  of  bargains.  Thus  many  a  gay  masquerader 
will  unconsciously  polk,  and  quadrille,  and  waltz  in  a  fancy  garb  made 
of  the  robes  in  which  Camille  has  uttered  her  fierce  anathemas,  or  Phc- 
dre  lamented  her  fatal  love. 

Among  other  attempts  made  to  give  additional  interest  to  some  of 
the  articles  sold,  the  old  story  of  the  guitar  was  revived  by  some  of  the 
papers  in  behalf  of  an  instmment  of  the  kind  that  was  coming  under 
the  hammer.  But  this  was  beyond  even  the  boldness  of  an  auctioneer. 
When  it  came  to  be  the  turn  of  the  guitar,  he  said  that  it  "  had  been 
erroneously  announced  that  this  was  the  instmment  with  which  Made- 
moiselle Rachel,  when  a  child,  had  sung  in  the  cajes.  Still  this  guitar 
•was  valuable,  inasmuch  as  it  had  been  ten  years  in  the  tragedienne's 


376  APPENDIX. 

possession,  and  was  occasionally  used  by  her  en  souvenir  of  her  first 
calling."  How  little  the  bidders  credited  even  this  more  modest  state- 
ment was  evident  in  the  price  the  guitar  brought — 10  francs  :  as  it  was 
quite  new  and  clean,  it  was  much  less  than  its  market  value. 


THE  END. 


Haepek  &  Bbothebs  will  send  either  of  the  following  Works  by  Mail,  post- 
age paid  (for  any  distance  in  the  United  States  under  UOOO  miles),  on  receipt  of 
the  Money. 


MISS  MULOCH'S  NOVELS. 


The  Novels,  of  which  a  reprint  is  now  presented  to  the  public, 
^forin  one  of  the  most  admirable  series  of  popular  fiction  that  has  re- 
cently been  issued  from  the  London  press.  They  are  marked  by 
their  faithful  delineation  of  character,  their  naturalness  and  purity 
of  sentiment,  the  dramatic  interest  of  their  plots,  their  beauty  and 
force  of  expression,  and  their  elevated  moral  tone.  No  current 
Novels  can  be  more  highly  recommended  for  the  family  library, 
while  their  brilliancy  and  vivacity  will  make  them  welcome  to  every 
reader  of  cultivated  taste. 


John  Halifax,  (S-entleman. '     The  Head  of  the  Family. 


8vo,  Paper,  50  cents. 


Olive.     8vo,  Paper,  25  cents. 


8vo,  Paper,  37^^  cents. 


Agatha's    Husband.      8vo, 
Paper,  37  i  cents. 


Avillion,  and  other  Tales.      ^  Hero,  and  other  Tales. 
8vo,  Paper,  50  cents.  ,„        ,,    ,. 

12mo,  Muslin,  75  cents. 


The    Ogilvies.     8vo,  Paper, 
25  cents. 


Nothing  New.    Tales.    8vo, 
Paper,  50  cents. 


Published  hy  HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 

Franklin  Square,  Neio  York. 


Haeper  &  Bkotheks  will  send  either  of  the  following  Works  by  Mail,  post- 
age paid  (for  any  distance  in  the  United  States  under  3000  miles),  on  receipt  of  ' 
the  Money. 


MRS.  MARSH'S  NOVELS. 


Beyond  most  modern  writers,  the  author  seems  to  have  an  in- 
stinctive perception  of  human  impulses,  and  an  unsui-passed  power 
of  drawing  deUcate  shades  of  character.  Her  works  may  worthily 
take  place  among  the  best  modern  fictions. — London  Critic. 


The  Rose  of  Aahurst.    8vo, 
Paper,  60  cents. 

Evelyn  Marston.     8vo,  Pa- 
per, 50  cents. 

Angela.       12mo,   Paper,    75 
cents ;  Muslin,  90  cents. 


Norman's  Bridge.    8vo,  Pa- 
per, 25  cents. 

Father  Darcy.     Bvo,  Paper, 
25  cents. 

Emilia    Wyndham.      Bvo, 
Paper,  25  cents. 


Tales  of  the  Woods  andj     The    Triumphs    of   Time. 
Fields.     12mo,  Muslin,  75  cents,  g^.^^  Paper,  25  cents. 


Time   the   Avenger.     Bvo, 
Paper,  25  cents. 

Adelaide     Lindsay.      Bvo, 
Paper,     25  cents. 

The     Wilmingtons.       Bvo, 
Paper,  25  cents. 

Lettice    Arnold.     Bvo,  Pa- 
per, 10  cents. 

Mordaunt    Hall.      Bvo,  Pa- 
jjer,  25  cents. 


Momit    Sorel.     Bvo,  Paper, 
12^  cents. 

Ravenscliffe.       Bvo,    Paper, 
37^  cents. 

Castle    Avon.     Bvo,  Paper, 
372^  cents. 

Aubrey.       Bvo,    Paper,    37j 
cents. 

The    Heiress    of    Haugh- 
ton.     Bvo,  Paper,  37 ^  cents. 


PuUished  hj  HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 

Franklin  Square.,  New  York. 


lI.MirEK  &  Brotbitrs  will  send  the  following  Works  by  Mail,  postage  paid  (for  »ny 
distance  in  the  United  States  under  3000  miles),  on  receipt  of  the  Money. 


THE  BRONTE  NOVELS. 


THE  PROFESSOR.  By  Currer  Bell  (Charlotte  Bronte).  12mo, 
Paper,  60  cents;  Muslin,  75  cents. 

JANE  EYRE.  An  Autobiography.  Edited  by  Currer  Bell 
(Charlotte  Bronte).  Library  Edition.  12mo,  Muslin,  75  cents. — Cheap 
Edition.     8vo,  Paper  37i  cents. 

SHIRLEY.  A  Tale.  By  the  Author  of  "Jane  Eyre."  Library 
Edition.  12mo,  Muslin,  75  cents. — Cheap  Edition.  8vo,  Paper,  37^ 
cents. 

VILLETTE.  By  the  Author  of  "  Jane  Eyre,"  and  "  Shirley."  Li, 
brary  Edition.  12mo,  Muslin,  75  cents. — Cheap  Edition.  8vo,  Paper. 
50  cents 

WUTHERING  HEIGHTS.  By  Ellis  Bell  (Emily  Bronte). 
12mo,  Muslin,  75  cents. 

THE  TENANT  OF  WILDFELL  HALL.  By  Acton  Bell 
(Anna  Bronte.)     I2mo,  Muslin,  75  cents 

The  wondrous  power  of  Currer  Bell's  stories  consists  in  their  fiery  insight  into  the 
human  heart,  their  merciless  disj^cction  of  passion,  and  their  stern  analysis  of  char- 
acter and  motive.  The  style  of  these  productions  possesses  Incredible  force— some- 
times almost  grim  in  its  bare  severity— then  relapsing  into  passages  of  melting  pa- 
thos— always  direct,  natural,  and  effective  in  its  unpretending  strength.  They  ex- 
hibit the  identity  which  always  belongs  to  works  of  genius  by  the  same  author, 
though  without  the  slightest  approach  to  monotony.  The  characters  portrayed  by 
Currer  Bell  all  have  a  strongly-marked  imlividuality.  Once  brought  before  the  im- 
agination, they  haunt  the  memory  like  a  strange  dream.  The  sinewy,  muscular 
strength  of  her  writings  guarantees  their  permanent  duration,  and  thus  far  they  have 
lost  nothing  of  their  intensity  of  interest  since  the  period  of  their  composition. 

Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  Fraaklia  Square,  N.  Y. 


^arper'0  (Hatalogue. 


A  New  Descriptive  Catalogue  of  Harper  &  Brothers' 
Publications,  with  an  Index  and  Classified  Table  of  Contents,  is 
now  ready  for  Distribution,  and  may  be  obtained  gratuitously  on 
application  to  the  Publishers  personally,  or  by  letter  inclosing  Six 
Cents  in  Postage  Stamps. 

The  attention  of  gentlemen,  in  town  or  country,  designing  to  form 
Libraries  or  enrich  their  Literaiy  Collections,  is  respectfully  invited 
to  this  Catalogue,  which  will  be  found  to  comprise  a  large  propor- 
tion of  the  standard  and  most  esteemed  works  in  English  Literature 

■ — COMPREHENDING     MORE    THAN    TWO    THOUSAND    VOLUMES which 

are  offered,  in  most  instances,  at  less  than  one  half  the  cost  of  sim- 
dar  productions  in  England. 

To  Librarians  and  others  connected  with  Colleges,  Schools,  <fec., 
«vho  may  not  have  access  to  a  reliable  guide  in  forming  the  true 
estimate  of  literary  productions,  it  is  believed  this  Catalogue  will 
prove  especially  valuable  as  a  manual  of  reference. 

To  prevent  disappointment,  it  is  suggested  that,  whenever  books 
can  not  be  obtained  through  any  bookseller  or  local  agent,  applica- 
tions with  remittance  should  be  addressed  direct  to  the  Publishers, 
which  will  be  promptly  attended  to. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 

w^m — 


'-im^ 


JUNO  6  1988 


iH^ 


n* 


OCT  2  i  '»^ 


CO  DS)** 

L  1419atL 


KCT) 

JUL2aWBp' 


Form  L9-Series  4939 


3   1158  00431    8266 


PN 

2638 

F3B2 

,'/.M,«°liItl™."/..^'.".^J/^l  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  409  115 


mmm 


IS 


